


I Got You

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-10-15 16:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Starts near the end of 1x10 by exploring what might have happened if it was Macy rather than Charity who brought Harry tea and comfort after his ordeal in Tartarus.  As Macy struggles to deal with the powerful attraction she feels to her whitelighter, she must also navigate surprising family revelations while deciding what to do about her relationship with Galvin.





	1. Chapter 1

Macy looked from her sisters' doubtful faces to Charity’s primly clueless expression. So, Charity really thought it was perfectly fine to show up _now_ and pretend to care how Harry was holding up? Although she normally wasn’t quick to anger, Macy felt it stirring in her now with a sharp twinge that surprised her. Her instincts were screaming all this crazy resentment at Charity and longing to protect Harry and where was this _coming_ from?

She shook her head slightly, as if that would help her to shuck off the strange blend of feelings that had her nearly blurting an expletive-laden diatribe against Charity. Mel cocked her head curiously, noting Macy’s furrowed brow and the tight set of her lips, her clenched jaw. Maggie saw it too and frowned. “Everything okay, Macy?”

“It’s fine,” Macy said as breezily as possible. Something clicked into place in her mind, a new determination she still didn’t fully understand, yet nothing could have held her back from it. “Know what? I just think that the three of us should be the ones to help Harry rehabilitate from his ordeal.”

Charity’s blue eyes widened and she took Macy’s unspoken meaning: _The Charmed Ones should be there for Harry now because they were there for him when he was in trouble. They didn’t just show up afterwards and try to take credit, try to act like they all cared about him just as much._

Macy rose to her feet and planted her hands on the tray of tea which Mel had passed to Charity. “If you don’t mind,” she said, politeness barely masking her sass.

“Not at all,” Charity said with a sadly resigned smile. “I understand. Just…summon me if you need me, alright?”

 _We won’t need you,_ Macy thought irritably. Mel read her sister’s face and forecasted the potential storm ahead if she didn’t interrupt.

“Okay, sure. Will do,” Mel chirped with a transparently forced cheerfulness.

After Charity left, Maggie looked at Macy with exhausted, haunted eyes. “I know Charity wasn't exactly Ms. Proactively-Helpful when Harry was yanked to Tartarus, but damn, Macy.” She melted into a husky laugh that sent all three sisters giggling.

“I couldn’t help it! She acts like she’s the tragically lost love of Harry’s damn _life_ , his oldest friend, the one person who always has his back, and in reality she basically shows just enough effort to keep him pining after her. It…it really pisses me off.” Macy knew she’d babbled, but Mel nodded.

“You’re right. That’s no way to love,” Mel agreed, “But maybe she’s learning…she did help us get the harbinger.”

“You’re right,” Macy nodded. She swallowed, fighting to keep the tray steady. After today’s complicated encounters with Galvin, the last thing she needed to face was a tidal wave of feeling for Harry that made her almost unreasonably defensive of him. She’d been fighting the instinct for months, cutting it off at the pass. She wasn’t _attracted_ to their whitelighter, jeez. How preposterous. Of course she still wanted Galvin, just as she always had. It was getting harder to try and protect her heart from an intense vulnerability that frightened her, because the truth just kept creeping back in.

Galvin, after all, was safe. His M.O. was predictable. He cared for Macy, maybe enough to work it all out, be the man she needed. He was just your typically well-meaning, clever-but-romantically-clueless, _mortal_ dude. Harry was something else altogether, causing emotions in Macy’s heart which she wasn’t ready to understand. Could that be because she was still trying to understand herself, and the two concepts were so closely intertwined?

“Go on, you bring Harry the tea then, while it’s still hot,” Maggie said, coughing and lifting her own teacup to breathe in the soothing steam and take a cautious sip. “It really does help.”

“Um…okay,” Macy resolved, giving a conflicted smile as she turned and made her way to the living room. Why was this so hard? Her body felt suddenly weak, but also as if she was floating on air, and she knew why. She’d let her feelings for Harry into her conscious mind, just a little bit more. Just a whisper’s breadth, but she felt it down to her bones. She needed to be with him in the quiet embrace of this night, the safety of their inner sanctum, their home. She needed to make sure he was really alright.

“Hey,” she said softly as she sat down beside him on the couch, sliding the tray onto the coffee table in front of them. 

He looked so drained, but also surprised and quietly elated to see her, that it was Macy out of everyone who had come to check on him. Her heart squeezed and a dizzying blur of concern-tinged excitement overtook her, but she channeled it into a nurturing mood with all her strength. Reaching out for his hand, she found he was still slightly trembling, and felt an irrational urge to kiss his knuckles which she just about managed to repress, sliding her thumb over them instead. “How are you feeling, Harry?”

“Well, that’s a complicated question,” he smiled, his sweetly rich accent falling warm and soft on her eager ears. He had showered and changed into fresh clothes, university sweatpants and a white t-shirt that showed off his physique to distractingly sexy-adorable perfection. Yet he still wore an uncharacteristic layer of stubble on his usually-pristine cheeks, a hollow, aching look in his eyes opening up into curiosity and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on as he returned her gaze.

How could eyes the color of pure blue ice always seem so incomparably warm? They made no move to part hands; in fact, he returned her pressure, his finger stroking gently over her wrist, grazing her pulse. It was such an innocent touch, but it flooded Macy’s body with tingles. 

“I guess the most accurate answer is simply, I don’t know,” he said with a wry smile. “When I was being tortured in that pit, they made me see these memories…visions of a life I don’t remember, but…it felt so real, Macy, so terrifyingly real. How could they invent something like that? Why would it tap so deeply into the faultline of my emotions if the memories weren’t true?”

“You almost sound like you want answers…like you want to investigate these memories,” Macy said, reluctantly disconnecting from his touch so she could pour him a cup of tea. His voice, the more he exerted it to speak, was thin and tired, like Maggie’s.

“Perhaps I do feel the urge to follow up,” he mused, taking an appreciative sip of tea. “Hmm, thank you for this. But by elder law, it's forbidden for me to go down that road. I was supposed to abandon my original life, the man I used to be, when I became a whitelighter. Hence the memory wipe.”

“If it was me, I’d have to know,” Macy said thoughtfully, “The not-knowing would just drive me nuts. But you’re not strong enough yet, Harry. You need to take it easy for a while.”

“Yes, I don’t imagine I’ve much of a choice on that count,” he agreed, wincing because he’d shifted slightly and irritated his sore ribs. It was amazing how healing spells could take the brunt of the pain away, but there were some aches that nothing could erase.

_Maybe that’s the way it should be. Pain reminds us we’re alive, but…I can’t stand to see him in pain or to think of what he went through…_

“What? What is it, Macy?” Harry brushed his hand lightly against her cheek, then drew back as if he’d startled himself. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s fine,” Macy blurted, her pretty brown eyes bright, her cheeks warmer by the second, absolutely burning where he’d touched her. “It’s good. I mean, I—“

Damn. What could she even say to recover from this awkward moment? They couldn’t ever be _together_ , together, he was her whitelighter, and she’d gathered by now that witches and whitelighters were not allowed to be lovers…

_What? No! Don’t think the word ‘lovers’!_

That line of thinking had only made her body feel even more hot all over as he watched her intently, inscrutably focused. 

“You’re always there for me, Macy,” Harry said, saving her from her barely-internalized nervous disaster state. “Thank you.”

“You’ve been such a constant for us, too, Harry. I…I was horrified when you fell into Tartarus, and we all would have done whatever it took to get you back. You know you’re home with us, Harry…we’ll take care of each other, whatever happens.” She smiled warmly and he nodded, looking like he might burst into tears. Macy felt the same, swallowing past a rawness in her throat though there was no way to prevent her eyes glazing over, or the few drops that slipped through her long, dark lashes.

“Macy,” he murmured, caressing the tears away as her heart pounded incessantly. “There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there? Something else happened today…to upset you?”

He could see it, how worn-down she was emotionally, and yes, it had been quite the twenty-four hour ringer. 

“Well, yeah,” she chuckled, swiping at her cheeks slightly embarrassed. “I mean, I really don’t recommend interacting with former Tartarus guards.” They laughed and she added, “Plus, there was some stuff between me and Galvin…”

“Oh, I see,” he replied, a slight shift in his expression indicating his discomfort with the topic. Was he jealous? Macy didn’t even know why she’d mentioned Galvin, except that there was this special something about Harry that made it feel so easy and right to confide in him, even about this. Still, she questioned her motives…did part of her want to know if he cared whether she was dating someone else? 

“It’s silly,” she said dismissively, waving her hand as if the whole subject didn’t matter at all.

“No, it’s not,” he insisted. “Tell me, if you like. I’m no expert on romance, but we _are_ friends, and sharing each others problems, giving advice even if we’re rather clueless on the subject ourselves—“ they both chuckled — “Well, that’s what friends do.”

 _Friends._ Right. A necessary reminder to both that it was all they could be.

“Ummm…well, Galvin ended up being shockingly cool with the fact that I’m a witch,” Macy began, feeling again the relief that had washed over her when he hadn’t treated her like a freak. But then she remembered the rest of the day’s interactions and her face fell. “But I, uh, I told him something else personal about myself that did throw him for a loop. It kind of hurt my feelings, I guess maybe I’m too self-conscious about it—“

“About what?” Harry asked, maybe suspecting what she was about to say, but letting her unfurl the explanation in her own time. 

She looked at his honest, helpful, considerate, heartbreakingly handsome face and caved into the temptation to open up more. 

“I told him about how I'm a virgin,” she murmured, lowering her eyes as her shyness immediately came back.

She couldn’t look at him then, so she didn’t know exactly how he reacted. Instead, her eyes stayed locked on his hands, planted on his knees, somehow telling her he was deep in thought.

“And Galvin had a problem with that?” he asked carefully. Protectively. His attitude mirrored the way she’d tried to, perhaps ridiculously, shield him from what she considered Charity’s condescendingly shallow effort to show care. 

“Well, no, he just didn’t expect it and at first, it seemed to make him…hesitate. I mean, I get it, it’s unusual and it makes anyone question what my deal is, if I haven’t been with anyone like that…it seems weird.” Macy shrugged.

“It does not seem weird,” Harry assured her, moving slightly closer on the couch until their thighs almost touched. He put his arm around her, resting his hand gently on her shoulder, not fully encompassing her in his body heat, keeping the posture comfortingly friendly. She wanted him to tighten his hold on her, satisfy this soul-drenching need to know how his lips tasted. But she just found the strength to look over at him, seeing the complete, unrelenting support in his expression.

“It’s your choice. You’re a remarkable woman, Macy, and you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. I personally happen to think that any man would be very lucky to get the chance to spend time with you, so…” Harry fumbled for an appropriate ending to the sentence as Macy’s heartbeat got even harder, faster, desperate. It was almost impossible to hold still instead of climbing into his lap and kissing him.

She’d never had a desire so insatiable for anyone, not even Galvin, with whom she’d been so sure she shared a real connection. The feeling she had with Harry was like a magnetic draw, so powerful that kissing him felt like the only chance she might have to keep on breathing. It was insane. 

“So?” She managed, the challenge inevitably sounding at least a little flirtatious. 

Harry smiled, shy himself now, and finished carefully, “And so, I’m certain Galvin will realize that…and come around.” He couldn’t keep the judgmental edge off his voice anymore than Macy could help the way it excited her.

Just then, the doorbell rang and shook them from their shared daze, forcing them to blink away the intense eye contact and stop moving slowly closer. “I—I’ll get it, Mel should keep on taking care of Maggie,” Macy said. “Will you be alright alone for a bit?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, easing his arm away from her before retrieving his teacup and lifting it to his lips. 

Macy made her way to the front entrance, still slightly wobbly on her feet from the attraction she’d just felt with Harry, and when she opened the door to see Galvin, she immediately felt a strange surge of annoyance and guilt. 

“Hey!” she said a little too loudly, “Come on in.” 

Galvin looked at her curiously, noticing her nerved-up mood, but probably putting it down to their earlier encounter. He started talking, apologizing for being insensitive and thrown-off by the revelation she was a virgin, and also he was holding a file folder, which made her wonder what it contained. She realized she was way more interested in what the folder was all about than the actual words about their relationship which Galvin was still spouting. And she was definitely distracted by thinking of Harry, one room away, doubtless hearing Galvin’s voice and feeling…what? Something? She needed to know.

Macy tried to snap herself back to reality, away from the pull which Harry had on her thoughts, but thinking of her floundering romance with Galvin wasn’t doing it. She focused instead on the other matter of interest, though it was secondary. “It’s okay, Galvin, we’ll figure it out,” she rushed to say, speeding through the resolution of their impasse. His face relaxed and she transitioned, again too quickly for someone invested in continuing their would-be love story. “So, what’s in the folder?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got smutty fast, but I blame Macy's subconscious! ;)

The revelation that Mel and Maggie weren’t full sisters, but Macy and Maggie were, turned out to have an impact on her siblings which Macy couldn’t have anticipated. She _should_ have realized that they would be hurt and upset by the same news that filled her with a sense of being less alone, that added to and further motivated her investigation into her mother’s past actions. In her single-minded need to understand Marisol, Macy had been too quick and casual to divulge the news, too insensitive to the way she would be turning her sisters’ worlds upside down.

Well, that was how it seemed, anyway. Maybe there was no right way to deliver a bombshell like that, no perfect moment. Some things just hurt. Still, she felt awful, even after making up with Mel and Maggie, after apologizing and gaining their full, loving forgiveness. She felt selfish and wrong, but she had to wonder how much of that emotion was connected to her ongoing angst over the men in her life. The last thing nerdy-scientist-virgin Macy Vaughn had expected was to land smack in the middle of a love triangle, but life just seemed to get crazier with each day that passed. 

And again, Harry was there for her…just like always. He was her security, the person she knew she could always go to, always rely on…it was more than the bond between witch and whitelighter, she knew. Harry found her when she went up to the basement to sit and overanalyze her swirl of confusing feelings and he sat there with her in quiet, sensitive solidarity until she felt better. There was that something mysterious and restrained about his manner with her again, the way he patted her hand and drew back awkwardly, like he had to force himself not to let his touch linger. This soon after his time in Tartarus, he should still be resting, but instead there he was, telling her that she was a good person who always did right by her sisters when it counted most. And he had no idea how much she still wanted to kiss him until they were both dizzy. Or did he…could he feel it?

Now that Galvin knew she was a witch, it was actually easier to avoid dealing with their relationship. Since he was aware of the reasons why she was always busy, now he could simply help out with the sisters’ various adventures, nonchalantly accepting that with the continual onslaught of magical calamity, he and Macy simply hadn’t had time yet for another date or a further discussion of their would-be sex life.

She was avoiding Galvin, even as she smiled brightly and thanked him for helping her save Hilltowne from the machinations of a possessed music teacher. With every smile and every forced-casual, chirpy quip at their adventure’s twists and turns, Macy was hiding further away inside herself. It was an introvert’s talent, but one she couldn’t keep up forever. She was going to have to deal with her fading affection for her boyfriend, no matter how much she dreaded the necessity. But…not today, she reasoned as she slipped into her pj’s, back home after the Hilltones performance and a chaste-feeling goodnight kiss with Galvin. 

It seemed like the perfect time to sit up with Maggie and go through Dad’s letters, helping her sister get to know the biological father she’d never met, plus trying to put their heads together to figure out what their parents’ relationship was really like. Of course, the day wasn’t all out of bombshells. One of Dexter’s letters revealed that he and Marisol had once brought Macy back from the dead. Devastating? Scary? Sure. But didn’t it also go a long way towards explaining why Macy seemed to have this confusing, potent darkness deep inside her soul?

When she was back in her room alone, Macy tried to reason that a good night’s sleep might be the best remedy for her half-bewildered, half-terrified state. They could investigate this past mystery tomorrow, when her mind was clear and refreshed from a solid eight hours of peaceful slumber…

Unless she had nightmares. Macy bit her lip nervously as she lay under the covers in the dark, the room all of a sudden too quiet, too solitary. She _really_ didn’t want to deal with nightmares, but she was also exhausted, and despite lying awake for about an hour blinking up at the ceiling and trying to wish away her anxiety, her body’s need to rest kicked in and her tired eyes drifted shut.

Parties never make sense in dreams, so Macy just went along with it as all the guests in her crowded house made nonsensical, gibberish-based toasts and cheered triumphantly. Apparently, Maggie had graduated Hilltowne on her birthday while at the same time, Mel had won a massive research grant. Macy recognized some of the faces of Maggie and Mel’s friends who were throwing confetti and nibbling…cheesy bread? But most of the guests were just blurred combinations of random features. 

The party was too loud and overwhelming, and Macy kind of just wanted to find a quiet corner somewhere to get her bearings, especially since for some reason it was freezing cold in here. That was weird, with all these people around. She went to smooth out the skirt of her dress, only for her fingers to hit bare thigh, and then her eyes went huge and she let out a shocked yelp as she looked down.

She was in her underwear, just her bra and panties, though thankfully they were the cute, matching black lace ones. But still, _really_? Macy was at that point of almost fully understanding this was a dream, but it all felt too lucid for her to entirely resist the sensation that it was really happening. No one was shooting her any weird looks, although everyone else was fully dressed, but Macy made a beeline for the stairs, determined to get some clothes on pronto.

But as she turned on her heel, wondering why she would have remembered her favorite tan suede ankle boots but not her _clothes_ , she stumbled, people brushing by all around her. Macy stretched her hands out, desperately trying not to land flat on her face, but before she knew what happened she was caught by a pair of strong hands and found herself looking straight into Harry’s fascinated blue eyes.

Macy laughed breathlessly, grateful for his rescue but mortified at him seeing her like this. “Harry! This is so weird, I don’t even know half of these people and I have no idea why I’m wearing — well, why I’m not wearing more—“ 

Harry gazed at her, his fingers still firmly supporting her by the elbows. “Macy,” he smiled, like she was some kind of goddess, “You look _amazing._ ”

“I—I mean, thanks, but—“ 

“Come on, this is all a little much, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have made the Welsh rarebit, it always packs them in. Let’s go find somewhere we can talk, hmm?” 

Macy slid her hand up his chest over his dapper grey vest and white buttoned shirt…hey, why was _he_ fully dressed? It didn’t quite seem fair. “Talk?” she asked, and her voice sounded flirtatious, far more bold than she’d intended. She was grinning, her heart racing, full of hopeful excitement.

“Of course,” he confirmed happily, “I love talking to you, Macy. Come on, I’ve got just the place.”

“Our windowseat,” she said as he led her up to the attic (weren’t there usually more stairs?) their fingers laced, holding on tight. She’d been so determined to get dressed, but now, with the way he was looking at her, she didn’t care anymore. She just wanted to feel his hands and his lips touching her everywhere his gaze wandered. 

“You must be freezing,” Harry said softly, reaching for a blanket that was folded at the end of the bench. “How thoughtless of me to bring you up to the chilliest spot in the—“

“No,” Macy answered firmly, placing her hand over his and urging him to let go of the blanket. Her heart was pounding, her lips tingling in eagerness for his kiss, the only kiss she wanted, the only man she had _ever_ wanted with this aching desperation. “That’s not how I want to warm up,” she admitted, shocked by her own brazenness but unable to hold back from him another moment. 

Harry looked about as astonished as he was aroused. He slid close to her and cupped her face, his free hand wandering gently over her exposed cleavage, fingertips skating over her soft, desire-swollen curves until she could have fainted. 

“Harry,” she whispered just before his mouth met hers. Oh, it was just as she’d imagined it a thousand times! His lips were so warm, his kiss tender at first, then harder, deeper, more demanding as she slid her hands over his lap, her fingers grazing his arousal. He groaned and sucked her lower lip before biting it lightly. How could he be that turned on by her, how could he already be that hard? Macy’s whole body was unravelling into a hot, fierce desire that pulsed wet and needy between her thighs. He pulled her into his lap and she straddled him, rubbing herself against his firm erection. Harry held her by her ass and hips, encouraging her rhythmic motion while she let her mouth wander across his face and down to his neck. 

What was she _doing?_ She’d never made such a move with anyone before, so how did she know exactly what it would take to make him tighten his grip on her body and kiss her like his life depended on it? 

His hand slipped under her panties and cupped her bare ass cheek as she licked, bit and sucked at his neck. He groaned, squeezing her bottom as she went on, insatiable, intoxicated with the taste of his skin and the scent of him, his warmth, his touch, how good it felt to turn him on and elicit his passion, his surrender matching her own. It felt like the rules all just evaporated along with her shy uncertainty about sex. It felt _amazing_ , like a…like a dream…

 _”Oh, you’re just like a dream…”_ A melody, a whimsical ’80’s beat, a male voice pining and yearning and reaching…The Cure…where had that music come from? But the song was so perfect, fitting the moment as she sank into the melody, following her instincts no matter how they continued to surprise her.

“Mmm,” Macy sighed as Harry leaned her back and slipped the bra straps from her shoulders, shoving the cups down and lavishing his mouth over her breasts. “Don’t stop…oh!” Harry’s hand stayed planted on her ass as his tongue swept over her hardened nipple and she almost burst into tears at the jolt of anticipatory pleasure that shot straight to her core. 

“ _Macy?_ ” Galvin’s incredulous, horrified voice piped up, causing her to open her eyes, seeing her boyfriend standing right across the room as Harry went on luxuriously loving her body like they were still alone. She couldn’t push Harry away, not as he sucked at her nipple and his hard-on pressed impatiently against her; she was in some kind of a daze, still grinding on Harry even as a faint guiltiness seeped into her erotic euphoria.

“I’m sorry, Galvin,” she said sincerely, meeting his shocked and accusatory eyes as his hurt feelings shifted to anger and bitterness. “I can’t stop. I need him too much.” 

“I need you, too,” Harry murmured hotly, hooking his fingers into the sides of her panties and tugging them down as she stood just long enough to accommodate his intention. 

“Macy, how could you do this to me?” Galvin demanded. “It’s like you’re totally heartless!”

Heartless? No, not the way she adored her sisters, adored Harry. That’s the last thing she was. But…evil? Maybe. After all, she’d died once, come back, and who knew how that experience had changed her? She shivered at the thought, but there was no turning back. “You don’t understand,” Macy insisted, unbuttoning Harry’s trousers as he watched her, a possessive, seductive glimmer in his eyes. “I love him. Harry, I love you.”

“Macy,” Harry answered huskily, just before she woke up alone in bed, her panties damp, her body trembling, and her heart still thundering relentlessly. 

“Whoa,” she sighed, unable to believe she could have a dream that vivid and utterly shameless. It felt so real. She could still taste Harry, could still hear Galvin’s heartbroken voice echoing in her ears. She had been awful, hurtful, selfish…reckless, sexy, confident…she’d gotten exactly what she wanted, but at what price?

Worst of all, how could she ever look Harry in his sweet, earnest, gorgeous face again without thinking of that dream and losing all ability to form logical sentences? But maybe that wasn’t worst of all. How could she face Galvin if she gave into what she still needed, right now, and thought again of Harry’s mouth burning into her own, his insistent hands, his rigid…oh, _damn_ …

Macy rolled over onto her stomach, gathering some of the bedsheets and positioning them between her legs as she began to grind, imagining she was on top of Harry again, remembering the way his tongue had felt all over her breasts, recalling the shock of how quickly and profoundly his body had responded to hers…she bit her pillowcase to smother her moan as she rubbed herself faster and faster against the wadded-up sheets, one hand planted desperately into the mattress as the other sank into her hair, imagining it was Harry touching her, wanting her, fucking her…

She couldn’t help the very audible mewl that escaped her lips as she came with a sharp, powerful surge of pleasure. She couldn’t help it any more than she could have resisted the need to react to that insane dream. 

Shaking from head to toe, she curled up on her side and tried to go back to sleep, but some kind of nervous energy took her over until all she could do was play back the memories in her mind of her relationships with Galvin and Harry, trying to understand how she got here, torn between them. She cared for Galvin and hated the idea of hurting him, plus she had no clue if Harry reciprocated her feelings in the slightest. What was the right thing to do — ask Harry how he felt? Was that too much like cheating? Should she break up with Galvin first, did she want to give up everything she’d built with Galvin on the sliver of a chance that Harry might want her…was that even the right thing to do, for any of them? How could she trust her instincts when she knew there was this unknown _thing_ inside her, this darkness that maybe she wanted to keep unknowable. Who knew how deep the darkness ran or what the consequences might be if she faced it directly, let it come out to play? 

“Heartless,” Galvin had called her in the dream.

“Evil,” her instincts corrected him. 

Macy thought and thought, but every answer was maddeningly, almost mockingly out of reach.


	3. Chapter 3

“No! Help!” Harry’s desperate voice echoed from his room down the hall, causing Macy to sit bolt upright in bed, squinting at the clock. It was 3am…wow, this felt somehow like the longest night ever. She had a pounding headache, hardly surprising after all that overthinking and self-guilting, and she was totally exhausted, but nothing could have stopped her from going to Harry.

Stumbling slightly in her sleepy state, she hurried out of bed and down the hall, slipping into his room and approaching his bed in concern. “Harry?” she asked groggily, “Are you okay?”

He was caught in a fitful, feverish sleep, his movements jerky and panicked as he tossed and turned. She sat beside him and touched his shoulders tentatively. “Harry, it’s okay…you’re okay, it’s just a dream.” 

In the shadowy room, she could still make out his familiar features, the haunted look on his face as he slowly opened his eyes, the cold sweat breaking out on his forehead and the dark etchings all over his neck. Remnants of his ordeal in Tartarus, she guessed as she gently laid her hand on his brow. He didn’t feel like he had a temperature…

“Macy?” he asked in confusion as she touched his neck, examining him carefully. The marks were starting to fade again, but what did they mean?

“Yeah, it’s me…I heard you cry out, I was worried.” As she hovered over him, her eyes fell to his journal, lying beside his hand on the bed, a pen resting on top of the latest page filled with cramped, obsessive scrawling. Perfect cursive penmanship, of course…she smiled affectionately but her voice contained an unspoken reprimand. “You’ve been trying to analyze your memories, haven’t you?”

“I know, I know…bad idea, dangerous, even, but I found I couldn’t resist. I haven’t tried to resist the temptation these last few days, though my quest to restore the memories has left me increasingly drained,” he sighed, trying to sit up as she halted him with a soft touch of her hand on his chest. He didn’t have a full-on fever, but his skin was hot beneath the thin fabric of his white cotton t-shirt.

“Lie back, take it easy,” she insisted, adjusting the pillows and blankets for his optimum coziness.

“Yes, you’re probably right,” Harry admitted ruefully, “Unless the room is supposed to spin like that. I’m also fairly certain there should only be one of you.”

“Close your eyes…relax your body…take a deep breath,” Macy coached, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. He followed her instructions, then carefully opened his eyes again.

“That’s better…no more double vision,” he smiled, looking almost content in a way that made her heart twist. It felt almost as though her care had reached him like a deep tissue massage, breaking through the layers of stress and discomfort to bring him back to peace, even if just for a moment.

“I’ll stay with you,” she offered, lying down beside him at a politely appropriate distance.

“Oh, that’s quite alright, you don’t have to do that,” he said, the slight waver in his voice making it perfectly obvious that he wanted her to stay. 

For goodness’ sake, he might as well be pouting. He was so cute, she could barely handle it.

“Thanks, but I’m not moving,” she chuckled, the humor fading from her mood as she added, “Harry, I know how intensely real a dream can seem…” Oh, boy was she glad he didn’t know exactly how well she knew it! “Throw in visions from your past and it’s a corrosive combination.”

“Is that your scientific conclusion on the matter?” he asked, turning onto his side and folding his arm under his head, facing her with that same enticing curiosity in his eyes which he’d had in her dream.

“No, that’s my common sense,” she laughed quietly. “You _were_ having visions from your past, the memories you saw in Tartarus…right?” 

“Yes,” he admitted, his expression turning distant as he thought about it. “I just keep seeing the same three visions, just fragments, but so real, so powerfully real, Macy. The bank robbery, the prison fight…and sitting by my son’s hospital bed, hearing that he’ll never recover.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry.” Macy caressed his face and he leaned into her touch. “Sorry about your son, sorry you haven’t been able to get the answers you need…the past just won’t seem to leave us alone lately.”

“Hmm. No, it won’t. Charity told me that my son is still alive.” Her eyebrows shot up, her fingers still poised on his cheek as he covered her hand in his own. “Yes. But she can’t tell me anything more…she’s broken the elders’ rules already by looking into my past. Yet I don’t even know if I can go on living by their code…”

“Harry, that code has defined your life since I’ve known you,” Macy breathed in surprise.

“I know, but as I told Charity tonight, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to remain here as your whitelighter any longer. Macy, I’m deteriorating, falling apart the more I try to grasp at the memories…yet I cannot fight the need to learn about my past. It’s taken me over, become an obsession. I don’t want to let you and your sisters down, but I don’t know how to turn away from this.”

“Why don’t we work together, then? Try to find a solution that lets you find out about your past, your son, everything you need to know, but one that also keeps you by our side if you want to be there, lets you keep your whitelighter powers and your strength, your health?” She was babbling again, and they were both pretending it was normal as could be that they were in bed together, hands joined and eyes locked. “I…I just want you to have everything, Harry.”

“You know I want to be by your side,” Harry answered immediately, making her heart skip a beat. “You must be able to discern that much, Macy. You’re brilliant, after all.”

She felt the warmth in her cheeks and realized that her headache had faded completely under his touch, his words. “Well, if I’m brilliant, then trust me. We can talk to Mel and Maggie tomorrow, start working on a fix for your memory problem. For now, you need to sleep. And Harry?” She shifted just a little closer and he did the same.

“Yes?” 

“You don’t have to hide your struggles from us…please come to us next time and let us help you sooner? We’re here for you, just like you’re here for us, you know?”

“I know. Thank you, Macy.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, that piney scent of soap that lingered on his skin reminding her how much she loved getting closer and closer to him. His mouth was just as warm and exquisite-feeling as it had been in her dream, but a thousand times more irresistible in real life. Still, she managed to hold it together, nuzzling her head into his shoulder as he drifted back to sleep, his hand settling on her upper back, making the day's worries drift further and further away.

“Goodnight, Harry.” This time she didn't worry about what dreams would come.


	4. Chapter 4

“Wakey-wakey, Harry,” Maggie sang out cheerfully the next morning as she backed her way into her whitelighter’s room bearing a tray filled with breakfast. “Oh!” 

Maggie thought perhaps she might be seeing things, so she squinted, set the tray down on Harry’s bedside table, and rubbed her eyes to make sure they were still working right. 

“ _Macy_?”

“What! Yup! I’m up!” Macy sat up, dazed, and ruffled her hair, reorienting herself to the memory of last night until she fully realized that she was in bed with Harry and Maggie was standing there looking at them in total shock.

“Hmm?” Harry questioned, sitting up exhaustedly and stretching with an enormous yawn. “Oh. Good morning, Macy. Good morning, Maggie.” He gave a charmingly gentile smile, as if nothing whatsoever was amiss or unusual, then glanced at the tray of food and tea. “Goodness gracious, Maggie, you are too kind for words. Really, you needn’t keep waiting on me like this, I’m feeling much better.”

“No he’s not,” Macy complained, rolling her eyes at Maggie and then elbowing Harry, scowling at him accusingly. “No, you’re not. I thought we were done lying to each other.”

“Well, at the very least you both haven’t exactly been sharing all your latest news with Mel and me,” Maggie pointed out, nodding at the seeming-couple in the bed and making Macy wonder how her sister’s eyes could even _get_ that big.

“Ah. Right you are, Maggie. Toast, Macy?” He passed the plate to Macy, who immediately picked up a piece and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

“I ended up in here last night,” Macy explained, shooting Maggie a look that said _calm down, I’m not banging Harry!_ “because Harry was suffering a night terror from his memories. When he was tortured in Tartarus, he saw visions of his pre-whitelighter life and now he’s been working night and day to try and fully remember who he was. There are consequences to that kind of thing, and they’ve taken a toll on him physically and mentally…he’s stalled his recovery. You need to take better care of yourself if you don’t want us to,” she added to Harry. 

Harry took a sip of tea, then passed the mug to Macy, who swallowed a gulp of welcomingly soothing caffeine and honey, then handed it back to him.

“While I appreciate the way we all care for one another in general, I simply wanted Maggie to know that she doesn’t have to bring me breakfast in bed when she’s a busy student with her own life. I’m not an invalid,” Harry claimed, making both sisters laugh.

“Harry, you’re pale, you’re sweaty, there’s crazy black etchings, like, fading onto and off of your skin in a creepy pattern, and you’re keeping some kind of wacked-out vision journal,” Maggie said briskly, watching as Harry split a piece of bacon with Macy, the two of them practically chewing in unison. 

He shrugged, wincing slightly at her observations. “True.”

“So even though you do look better rested today,” Maggie said with a meaningful look to let Macy know the topic of “waking up in bed with Harry” wasn’t closed by a long shot, “You’re still spiraling. Just like I was when I did that spell to try and avoid feeling my feelings. You guys were there for me, and I’m gonna help you now, okay? Part of that is a wake-up call, so—“ she slipped her fingers between her lips and whistled sharply, making Harry and Macy startle. “No more pretending to be fine when you’re not. Let’s yank through every grimoire and history of witchcraft book until we find you some answers.”

“Oh, but first, you might want to get up and get dressed,” Maggie added, patting Macy’s side of the bed.

“How much coffee did you drink so far today?” Macy said through her teeth.

“Three cups so far,” Maggie answered breezily. “There’s auditions for a new solo in the Hilltones today and this diva needs to be ready to shine her light. But I can multitask; I’ve got until noon to help you guys dig into this. Macy, do you have to head to the lab?”

“Yeah, I can’t really avoid it, but I can come back at noon and take a long lunch, help Harry once you have to go to your audition,” Macy reasoned, climbing out of bed and sliding her tank top strap back up over her shoulder.

Without meaning to, she flashed back to the thought of Harry’s fingers under that strap, his sleepy caress on her shoulder blade as they drifted in and out of sleep, and she grinned, wishing she could hold him every night.

“Do I have a say in any of this?” Harry asked with a wry cautiousness.

“Of course,” Macy said as Maggie chimed in, “Obvi.”

“Good,” he smiled, “Then I’d like to say thank you.”

*************************************************************************************************

“You did _what?_ ” Mel asked in disbelief when Macy reemerged from her room, dressed and ready to rush into work and make an attempt to focus on something that didn’t involve witchy crises or Harry Greenwood.

“Seriously, Maggie? What did you tell her?” Macy shook her head and kept right on walking towards the door, thinking that the bitter cold morning sounded oddly refreshing right about now. She didn’t really want to continue discussing Harry with her sisters when she hadn’t even figured out herself what to do about him.

“Uh, that you slept with him? Our whitelighter, Macy? That’s not allowed, and plus he’s like a hundred years old or something, you know,” Mel pointed out.

“First of all, I slept with him, as in ‘zzzzz!’” Macy insisted, shrugging her coat on and wrapping her scarf around her neck in a morally indignant huff. “Secondly, if you really wanna talk about inappropriate love interests, maybe we can spend some time discussing you and Jada.”

“Ugh, fine, fair enough,” Mel admitted, “Obviously, inappropriate romances are also totally irresistible. And I know I go a little over the top with the whole protective sister thing, Macy, but I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“We both are. Plus, we’re curious. Did you guys kiss? Is Harry a good kisser? And also, what about Galvin, is that over, or…” Maggie pivoted her hand from side to side and gave Macy an inquisitive look that made all three sisters giggle.

“Oh, I honestly don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Macy admitted. “Maybe it is a good thing that I talk to you guys about it. I mean…” She nodded to them and they threw their coats on as well, following her outside and away from Harry’s potential earshot. “I don’t know where things stand with me and Galvin right now…he totally freaked over me being a virgin and even though he apologized, and I know he means it…it’s hard for me to shake the thought of him having such a weirded-out look on his face over something so sensitive.”

“I get that,” Mel nodded, “And…Harry?”

“I always thought he was hot,” Macy blurted, looking up at the cloudy sky and giving the world’s tiniest scream. “Wow! It feels so much better to just admit that.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Maggie asked softly, taking Macy’s arm as they strolled down the sidewalk.

“It’s hard to say something like that out loud when you think you’re never actually going to act on it…it just becomes this smothered Id impulse that you try and pretend is shallow and fleeting…until it won’t go away and you can’t shake your feelings for him, and he just seems to keep getting cuter and sexier and more thoughtful and sweet every time you see him,” Macy explained, “And then the next thing you know, you’re having a sex dream about him and going back to sleep ridden with guilt and confusion, only to be awakened by him having a nightmare and needing you, and then you wake up beside him in his bed thinking ‘what the hell just happened to me?’”

“You had a _sex dream_ about Harry?” Mel said as Maggie’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Way to bury the lead! How was it, I mean, how was he, did he—“ Maggie began, but Macy laughed and waved off her question.

“Good, good, it was so good, _too_ good, and I don’t know how I’m going to look Harry in the eyes when I get back later, without thinking about the way he— and the way _I_ — yeah. I’m in trouble,” Macy mused, crossing her arms tightly and leaning back against a steel fence.

“Macy, I know a little about having feelings for two different people, and I think the most important thing is to just be honest with yourself,” Mel suggested. “Whatever the answer is, for me figuring out the situation with Jada and with getting over Niko — which is pretty damn hard to do when she’s not going away anytime soon — and for you, deciding if you want to be with Galvin or tell Harry how you feel, we can’t lie to ourselves. We have to be true to our own hearts, and the rest will fall out however it’s meant to.” 

“When did you get so wise?” Macy asked, folding Mel into a warm hug as Maggie enveloped them both in her arms as well.

“Love will do that to you,” Mel posited. 

“Yeah…love hurts like a weekend vacay in Tartarus, but it makes you wise as fuck,” Maggie put in, prompting them all to giggle yet again.

**********************************************************************************

Work was _not_ fun. For some reason, Galvin seemed intent on hovering around Macy and making small talk all morning, talking about everything from the latest political scandal to the management changes at the lab and where they should go have dinner that weekend.

Macy couldn’t focus on a single word he was saying; all she could think was, _Not so long ago, he wouldn’t give me the time of day all because I was scurrying around under obvious extenuating circumstances and stress and couldn’t dedicate my whole existence to dating him. Then we start dating for real and he looks like he wants to turn and run after he finds out about my virginity. Now I’m a little aloof and distracted and he’s all over me._

Galvin was a good guy; he was clever, funny, and kind, and they had a nice rapport. His friendship meant a lot to Macy, but she just couldn’t summon any romantic interest in him at this point; her attraction had fizzled, whether due to his unpredictable mood swings or her feelings for Harry, or both.

“Galvin,” she stopped him in the middle of one of his tangents, wondering if he was trying to talk himself into believing she was still invested in this relationship. Of course, now that dating her was convenient for him, he was all about it again. “Listen, I think we need to talk…”

He gulped, seeing the writing on the wall, and as Macy gave her incredibly awkward break-up speech, she laid it on thick with the whole, “It’s not you, it’s me” routine. Her reasons for doing this were simpler than it might seem: she just didn’t care enough about their attempted romance to criticize him for being an inconsistent, confused dude like so many others. He was only human, and she’d made her share of mistakes since meeting him and getting closer, too. “I hope we can still be friends?” she asked gently, daring to meet his eyes and finding them hurt, but not resentful and bitter like they were in her dream.

“Is there someone else?” he asked quietly, and she considered the question carefully. There was no escape from this; just a choice between a truth and a lie. They were sitting across from each other at their workstations, and the moment was too significant to be shrugged off with a vague response.

“There’s someone else I have feelings for,” she admitted, “But I don’t know if anything will ever happen with that. And I think it wouldn’t have worked between you and me anyway. We are just better as friends, Galvin. I _am_ sorry.”

“Yeah,” Galvin nodded as he stood to walk away. “Yeah, me, too.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Hello?” Macy called confusedly as she returned home on her lunch break. Maggie had already left for her audition, and as Macy walked inside, the sounds of oldies echoed loudly through the house. 

_“Why do fools fall in love?”_ a youthful singer mused, and Macy had to admit, there was one question that hadn’t been answered in all the years since the song had been recorded.

“Harry?” She mounted lightly to the attic finding him standing over a table covered with books and papers, a record player blasting from one corner.

“Oh! I’m terribly sorry,” he yelled, looking up at Macy and then sprinting sheepishly to turn the music’s volume down. “I thought the songs from the era of my memories might help to jog some more reminiscences to mind.”

“No problem, it’s a smart theory,” she answered with a friendly smile, setting her purse down and going over to look at the work he’d compiled. “Any new leads so far?”

“Maggie did a sort of journalistic culling spell, which resulted in us gathering some articles from the newspapers of mid-1950’s England,” Harry explained, rolling his shoulders back as if they were hopelessly stiff. Despite the few hours’ sound sleep he’d finally gotten the night before, his body was still drained from the way he’d prolonged his Tartarus experience by continuing to delve into the repressed memories. Macy’s smile faded as she examined the dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. 

He noticed her watching him with that intent concern and gave her a sweet smile. “I’m okay, Macy.” 

But his voice was still wan and he cleared his throat before continuing, as he gestured down at the various newspaper clippings scattered across the table, “There are accounts regarding a mysterious bank robber matching my description, and even from this unfocused, faded photo, I believe that’s me.” He pointed at the image of a fleeing thief, but his brow furrowed in frustration. “The spell couldn’t summon a single birth, death, or arrest announcement. I’ve scoured the prison records and again, nothing. Of course, it naturally follows that-“

“That the Elder’s wiped all evidence of your past self from history when you became a whitelighter,” Macy put in sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“I think I’m going to have to rely on myself to dredge up the memories,” he theorized exhaustedly, pressing the heels of his hands to his closed eyes. “I need to _focus_ , but nothing is working, dammit.”

“Hmm. Well, take it from someone who knows,” Macy suggested as she carefully pried his hands from his face, “The problem here might be that you’re just too uptight.”

“Me?” he chuckled, looking with interest at her pretty, elegant hands still touching him. “Uptight? Never.”

Macy laughed and surprised him again by lifting one of his hands up and placing the other at her waist. “Come on, dance with me, Harry. It’ll help you unwind. You’ll never be able to relax enough to remember a thing until you take a break. Get your mind off of it…”

“Onto something else,” Harry conceded, gazing at her in such immediate fascination that she felt that heat coming back into her cheeks as she bit her lip. 

Just then, Elvis Presley started singing, “Love Me Tender,” the slower tempo urging them to begin swaying intimately to the music. It felt so unbelievably _easy_ , following his dapper lead, falling into Harry’s eyes. It was everything that being with Galvin had never been: natural, instinctive, simple. These facts belied the complications of witch and whitelighter and every other boundary supposedly between them until she knew which pull she wanted to give into: not common sense. Love. Tender, magnetic affection, sweeping over them both until their movements, despite Harry’s tired state, were fluid and effortless.

“Thank you,” he murmured when the song stopped. The record ended with a soft, fuzzy pop of white noise and she nodded, looking at him in helpless devotion.

“Of course,” she said quietly as they went on holding each other. “It’s a strange kind of day, isn’t it? I almost feel like I’m still asleep, this is so nice, dancing with you…I hope you don’t mind my saying. I mean, you’re just like…”

“Just like a dream,” Harry finished, an understanding flashing across his features as she looked at him in shock. Of all the things for him to say! How could it be?

“Harry, did you…are you thinking of that song ‘Just Like Heaven’? By the Cure?” 

“I…yes, I suppose I was,” he mused, lowering her hand only to place his own at the other side of her waist so that he was fully embracing her, the touch tentative and polite, yet undeniably suggestive. “I feel a bit self-conscious about admitting this, but I had a dream last night, Macy, before the flashback dreams, that is. A dream about you…and me. And believe it or not, that song was playing all through the dream, threaded through it as I…” 

Macy’s mouth dropped open slightly as he inclined his face nearer to her own, her fingers traipsing automatically up his back over his blue button-up shirt. His hands drifted a little lower, his thumbs tracing her hips through her black pencil skirt. 

“As I kissed you,” Harry confessed, brushing his lips to hers as she sighed ecstatically and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. He kissed her so many times, soft and sweet and deeper, their tongues meeting as the heat at her core tightened moistly, all of those reactions which he could so easily command from her body. 

“Harry,” Macy whispered against his lips when they came up for air. “I had a dream about you, too…”

He kissed her cheeks, then her forehead before pressing his own lightly to hers. “You did?”

“Yeah, and we were here, in the attic…” she laughed huskily. “I mean, it was a crazy dream, I was in my underwear, and we were at this party that didn’t make any sense…”

“Maggie had graduated…Mel got a research grant…you were overwhelmed by all the racket and crowd, so I took you up here. I was so excited to be alone with you, I…Macy…did we have the same dream?” His voice wavered with disbelief, but his joy in the afterglow of their kisses was obvious, mirroring her own happiness as surely as their unconscious visions had matched.

“What does it mean?” Macy wondered, her heart pounding as she pressed herself more tightly against him and he gave a low groan of pleasure.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered, kissing her again, his fingers tangling in her hair as she gripped him intensely. “I don’t know,” he laughed as she grinned when their lips parted again, only briefly this time. This time, they stayed locked in their bewildered embrace, kissing shamelessly, mouths and hands busily exploring each other, both of them knowing that the dense, dizzying attraction between them had implications which they’d scarcely dared to imagine.


	6. Chapter 6

Macy managed to block out thoughts of the darkness as she fell further and further into Harry’s kiss. Or maybe it was more that the searing need between them was opening up into a desire so deep that it nearly obliterated every other care she’d known. 

This needy fervor between their bodies intensified as they went on kissing, aggressive now, the two of them sometimes giving way to a breathless, euphoric laugh between kisses. Then, burned up by the urgency of the need, they inevitably turned serious again, his hands firmly roving her body, pushing down over her hips to grip her ass. Macy yanked his shirt out of his trousers and ran her fingertips up over his smooth, warm, strong back. He squeezed her ass and she let her nails sink ever so slightly into his skin, dragging down until he gasped. She pulled away from his lips only because she had to look into his exquisite ocean eyes right at that moment, right as they teetered at the brink of this perfect madness.

He clasped her face in his free hand, breathing hard and looking at her, bright-eyed and unafraid, fascinated. Hers. He was hers. She felt an icy shard of fear stabbing right through the hot, insatiable love that had held her in this beautiful trance with him. Reality. Fear. How could he truly be hers, why had he walked into her dream, and how could this be anything else but another sign of her own depraved nature?

“Harry, I have to tell you something,” she whispered, barely able to summon the strength for the confession. But her conscience had roared back to life, suspicious of this bliss, knowing there could be no happiness without strings attached, knowing that her very nature proved this to be an impossible union.

“Of course,” he sighed, nodding with a quirky, overwhelmed smile. He was just as shocked as she was by the immensity of the passion that had taken them over, belying his normally straight-laced disposition and her own previous restraint in processing their attraction. It was still surreal that they held each other like this, that their lips were still pink, full and tingling from countless kisses, both of their necks tracked in light bite marks, their hair disheveled and clothing a rumpled mess. A wonderful mess. God, it was hard to let go of this.

Macy couldn’t let go of Harry, not yet. So she let him hold her hand as he smiled reassuringly, reading her worry and wanting to make it go away, just as he always did. His special talent. But she didn’t know if even his care and wisdom could help her through this, not if the true evil came from within her own mysterious soul.

“Come on, let’s go downstairs and talk where it’s more comfortable,” he suggested gently. “I know this is ‘our place,’ but it’s also drafty.”

She laughed softly, her fingers stroking his warm hand, then clasping it snugly. “Come to my room.”

“I’m sorry if that was…if _I_ was…if it was all moving too fast upstairs, just now,” Harry said sheepishly after they sat down on her bed. Macy thought she would burst into confetti at the sight of his adorably good-natured thoughtfulness; honestly, how was he even real?

“No,” she giggled, “Believe me, that’s not it at all, that’s not why I needed to slow down. Harry, you have no idea how hard it is for me to stop…kissing you…and, you know…everything.” Macy’s cheeks flamed as her heart pounded, the pressure somehow pleasurable, merriment sneaking its way in past the walls of her sadness yet again.

She lay down, tugging his hand tenderly until he joined her and they were face to face, fingers laced together, bodies close but not touching… _so_ close…she tried to stay focused. 

Harry, her perfectly put together, calm and rational, voice-of-reason whitelighter, looked like a devilishly unkempt sex god. She stared at him as he watched her patiently, curiously, and the powerful _wanting_ that hung thick in the air between them made the wet throbbing between her thighs rival the fierce rhythm of her incessant heartbeat.

“Damn…Harry, this thing between us, it’s so strong that it’s getting hard for me to even concentrate…” Her eyelashes fluttered as she moved a little closer, surrendering to the simply rapturous feeling of slipping her leg up over his, her tight skirt hitching to above her panties. Harry rested his hand lightly on her stockinged thigh, causing the butterflies in her stomach to swarm.

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you, Macy,” Harry promised. “From the first day we met, of course I noticed how unbelievably beautiful you are, how strong, sweet, smart and lovely in every way, but I never would have told you…I’ve been trying not to indulge my feelings…yet they just wouldn’t abate no matter what I did to repress them.”

“Oh, Harry…really? All along, you…” Her smile wobbled as tears glazed her eyes. A bittersweet combination of emotions took her over. Ecstasy at how fully her feelings for him were requited…and misery at the thought that they could never have this. Still, she had to know: “What did you do to…to try to repress it?”

“Umm, I would attempt to think of you like a sister,” he blushed, making her laugh again at the fresh memories of their extremely _un_ -brother-and-sisterly conduct in the attic. “That’s how I feel about Mel and Maggie…they are like sisters to me, but I could never get myself to see you that way. I tried then to change the subject of my thoughts when they ran to you, but apparently that simply sequestered the desire to my dreams. Where I found you again, Macy…it feels somehow like it’s meant to be. A relationship like this is forbidden, yet nothing I can remember has ever felt so right.”

The tears spilled hotly onto her cheeks as she shook her head. “It can’t be, Harry. This is exactly what I’m afraid of. How could you have been in my dream? It’s like somehow I’ve been reeling you in because of how much I wanted you…I’m afraid.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he insisted, affectionately stern. “Come now, Macy, why would you think such a thing? After all, I’ve been pining for you with equivalent acuteness. Perhaps our desires were so aligned that, given both of our supernatural predispositions, our unconscious minds found a way to each other. There have been records of witches dreamwalking, perhaps as a result of their astral bodies rising in the night to wander the dreamscapes which are created by their most powerful fantasies. This could be some unforeseen variation of that, I mean despite the fact that I shouldn’t possess powers even remotely comparable to the force of your own, but I don’t see any other…” he’d been babbling on in his typically dapper, intellectually theorizing way as Macy’s face grew sadder and sadder.

“I wish it could be something like that,” she sighed. “But last night, when Maggie and I were going through my dad’s letters to our mom, we found out about this secret.” She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the truth away, but of course that couldn’t work. “I died when I was a baby, Harry. And my parents brought me back.” When she opened her big, shining brown eyes again, Harry was gazing at her, not with shock or trepidation, but with complete empathy, with concern and love.

“Macy,” he sighed, kissing her wet cheeks. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I haven’t even told Mel yet, and I think Maggie’s trying not to make a big thing out of it,” she admitted. “I guess I was procrastinating facing this. I've been focusing on everything else in my path just to run away from my past, from what this means about me. Who I am. What I’ll do, what I might become…”

“You’ve feared the darkness in yourself since the first hint you had of its existence,” Harry observed, “Now at least you have an explanation of its origin. And just as you’ve helped me recover from Tartarus and begin looking into my past, I will help you figure out what your resurrection means for you, and how to understand the parts of yourself that may seem confusing, even frightening. There’s no doubt in my mind that despite any complication in your history, Macy, you are _good_ , through and through—“

“We can’t know that, you can’t,” she insisted, trying to find strength in the warmth of their embrace, the comforting presence of his body nestled into her own. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, along with another tear. “What’s dead should stay that way. I’m a scientist, no one knows better than me that coming ‘back to life’ is absolutely…unnatural, _wrong_ — inhuman.”

“You are a Charmed One,” he reminded her firmly, “A force for light and truth. You can find your own destiny, but you must believe in your own inherent goodness, you must know that you are precious and kind. There is no insidiousness to this dark power which we cannot discover and harness, perhaps even turn to the cause of good…you can know yourself fully and fearlessly, Macy. Then decide how to live with what you know and what you can do. Your potential is limitless.” 

“That’s everything you’ve been wanting, too…to know yourself fully,” she mused. Their stories were similar in so many ways, as if their lives were two rivers destined to join courses and merge into one. “Thank you, Harry.” Her smile was cautious, daring to believe in his words. “I know one thing for sure: the worst danger would be in refusing to know myself, refusing to face the darkness and investigate it until I can be in control of my own path. I kind of…I kind of lied to myself before, about Galvin, thinking I could make it work with him when I knew deep down it wasn’t what I wanted. I don’t want to lie to myself or hide anymore.”

“Galvin,” Harry said guiltily, wincing as if he’d totally forgotten that Macy still had a boyfriend, at least as far as he knew. “Gracious, I’ve been selfish, behaving this way with you when you’re dating someone else. I can’t seem to hold back from you, but it’s so unlike me.”

“I broke up with Galvin this morning, Harry, you’re off the hook,” she answered with a wry smile. Harry’s face relaxed and she laughed shortly. “But you _see,_ ” she suggested more seriously, tugging at his shirt, the gesture unintentionally sensual in a way that momentarily distracted them both. She cleared her throat and patted at his shoulders more chastely. “It’s so unlike you to act like this. What if I’m corrupting you, making you want me because I want you? It could be a manifestation of my dark side.”

“Macy, it would never require supernatural means to make me want you or need you,” Harry told her emphatically. “All you have to do is _exist_ to make me want to be with you, with every fibre of my being. You’ve done nothing wrong, subconsciously or otherwise. I know it, because even though I’m acting unusually, I’ve never felt more like my true self. I’m simply…giving into a vulnerability which I would normally keep at bay.”

“Why do you think you’re giving in, instead of going on pretending you don’t have feelings for me?” Macy asked, chewing her lip.

“Because the vulnerability feels like a strength,” he explained happily. “Being with you makes me feel stronger and more vital than I ever have. Look at me, Macy, look at the way I am after being honest with you, after kissing you and holding you.” 

She scanned his face and noticed that the pallor had entirely gone from his features, the clammy sheen of his skin replaced by a glowing appearance of perfect health. There were no markings on his skin aside from those left by her eager mouth, no circles under his eyes, no haunted fragility about his demeanor.

“You’re all better,” she breathed out confusedly, “But did I do that…or did we?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think we need to learn more about both of our pasts to be ready to deal with our present. And I’ve never been more ready to explore those possibilities with you, together."

“We should find your son,” she murmured, tracing his bicep as he caressed her cheek. 

“We will. We’ll dig into your past first, discover the truth of what happened when your parents brought you back, and then we can go to England, look for my son. Will you go there with me, Macy?”

“Of course, I’d be honored! But how are you so calm about all this now? You’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown over your memories, your son…can it really be the bond between us that’s grounded you like this?”

“What else could it be?” He smiled as if this was the sweetest of all revelations, as if _she_ was the most cherished discovery of his heart. “Before today, I felt my loyalties were divided. That’s why I was worried about trying to remain here as your whitelighter. I had a sense that my duty to protect you girls was being compromised by my need to learn about my son, to be loyal to him as well, a protector — I’m nothing if not a born protector. Yet now, I know that we can work together to solve it all. I don’t feel that division within myself, I just feel an exuberant hope.”

“That hope might be a trap,” Macy guessed anxiously, “It could be my darkness, pulling you in and giving you a false sense of safety. By delving into my past, I could be imperiling us both, putting Maggie and Mel in danger, too. Still, there’s no other way to know for sure.”

“Well, I know for certain that my feelings are real, untampered with and completely natural,” Harry smiled, his expression entirely confident. “Whatever dangers lie ahead, we shall confront them together, as we always do, as I believe we always _will._ ”

Despite all of her misgivings and paranoias, she collapsed against his chest in a fit of irrepressibly lovestruck giggles. “What?” he asked, hugging her and kissing her forehead, chuckling at her outburst.

“Nothing, it’s just…I love the way you talk,” she admitted, prompting him to tickle her in the belly, bringing on more laughter until they were wrestling affectionately, rolling around and kissing, tickling each other more, finding _almost_ all of the sensitive spots on each other's bodies, then eventually sitting up in the reluctant understanding that if they went on like that, they’d never leave this room all day. Did Harry know, she wondered? How much she wanted him to be her first? How much she longed for that moment when they could escape into that happiness together without having to worry about all of these other stresses and problems? 

If that moment between them was waiting on the other side of dealing with their pasts, Macy knew she could face anything and everything that lay ahead.


	7. Chapter 7

“Right then, first and foremost you must know that necromancers are extremely dangerous, toxic entities and are not to be trusted under—“

“Under any circumstances,” Macy finished in a posh British accent, finishing Harry’s sentence as he looked at her in mildly amused admonishment.

“Perhaps I _have_ mentioned it a few times, but the warning bears repeating,” he insisted.

They were sitting on the floor of the attic, a book of resurrection spells open between them as Macy prepared to recite the words that would bring forth the necromancer. There he was, buttoned-up Harry Greenwood in his adorable professor attire, tie and all, sitting in a pentagram surrounded by candles. It was a strange sight, he was totally outside of his comfort zone, and it was all for her.

“Harry, I trust you. I won’t let the necromancer sweet talk me into any evil deeds, okay? I’m only bringing them here to get some answers about my past and hopefully get to understand what’s going on with me now. Now, do you trust me?”

“Implicitly,” he confirmed as she smoothed her hand over the swirling, colorfully embossed letters on the worn pages. 

“Right, so if I start getting into trouble, you just pull me back, okay? Do the thing.”

“The…thing?” he quirked a brow.

“The thing you do, Harry.” She leaned across the book to brush a quick, feathery kiss to his mouth. “When you make me feel like everything is going to be okay so that I completely believe you, so that I have no doubt that I can fight my way through, so that your certainty somehow…becomes mine. Wrap me up in that belief until I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be.” She shrugged with a bashful smile. “You know. The thing.”

“I promise,” he vowed, his eyes shimmering, his voice tight. Wonder and disbelief at her words settled over his features as he nodded. “If you should encounter any apparently insuperable peril, I shall most definitely do ‘the thing.’”

Macy grinned. “And also never, ever stop talking like that. So, we’re all set then. You got me. And I got you.” She winked, feeling light as air because his assurances from earlier had soothed away the aching despondency in her soul. Because she really did believe in them, come what may. “Let’s do this.”

Loudly, with as much confidence as she could summon, Macy called, “I summon the one who brought me back.” Her hand did not tremble as she reached into the small glass cage beside her and drew out the squeaking mouse, lifting the blade from the floor. Harry met her eyes and nodded in resignation to the sacrifice.

“I summon you as you called me from beyond!” Macy exclaimed, trying not to think about what she was doing as she stabbed the squirming rodent. 

Blood pooled out from the mouse, more blood than could have possibly been in its tiny body or even a human’s, covering the floor as Harry shifted slightly to avoid the red river. Then the mouse came back to life. The blood ran straight across the floor to form a waterfall that looked like something from a Nightmare on Elm Street movie. Freddy’s idea of a joke. But this was really happening. Macy stared in utter shock at the insane sight of blood gushing down from the ceiling, pummeling the floor….and behind the scarlet downpour, a dark figure emerging.

“What the hell?” The curvy, blonde necromancer shouted indignantly once she had appeared in the attic. She hardly looked the part of an evil entity, especially given her bright, cheery floral shirt, trendy hairstyle, perfect make-up and the name-tag that read “Knansie.” “How dare you freaking summon me out of nowhere when I was right in the middle of a major — I am so screwed. Who are you,” she demanded impatiently of Macy, “And why do you have a whitelighter with you if you’re summoning a necromancer? Because ewww. We kind of epically hate each other as a rule.” 

“Hi,” Macy began with a friendly smile, her heart racing as she got closer to invoking the glimpse into the past she so desperately needed. “I’m Macy Vaughn, and I summoned you because I think you brought me back from the dead. This is Harry, and he may be my whitelighter but today he’s only here as my friend. We mean you no harm…I just need answers.”

As she walked up to Macy and examined her suspiciously, Harry regarded the necromancer with a warily strained expression. Macy could sense it was all he could do to bear Knansie being here, and indeed, despite the woman’s youthful and normal-seeming appearance, there was something unmistakably creepy about her whole aura. Her presence seemed to bring with it a certain tang of death that hung ominously in the air. 

Knansie sniffed at Macy, making her recoil slightly. “Hmm. Yes, I brought you back. I’d know that soul anywhere. So, you want answers, you and this…whitelighter, which frankly… _gross_.” Harry gave a small bow, sarcasm glittering in his eyes as Knansie continued, “You don’t have anything to do with Sid and her nutball attempts to get revenge on me?”

“Who’s Sid?” Macy asked confusedly.

“She’s this crazy witch who’s been hunting me,” Knansie explained. “And you broke my concealment spell! I need to brew a new one, so if you want your answers, you need to help me.”

“If there’s a witch pursuing you, it’s probably for a good reason,” Harry put in irritably.

“Uh, _no_ , Sid’s just mad because I refused to bring her boyfriend back from the dead! We necromancers aren’t all bad just because we’re in the business of resurrecting people, you know. Plus we have to deal with all the loonies who aren’t satisfied with our transactions, which is a second job in and of itself…or you know,” she babbled on, touching her nametag, “In my case, a _third_ job. And I’m tired. So let’s get on with this! Where’s your kitchen?”

Harry lingered at a polite distance as Macy and Knansie gathered the ingredients for the new concealment spell, and if he was at all doubtful of Knansie’s sob story about how necromancers were wrongly shunned by the Elders, only the occasional disbelieving snort gave him away. Macy glanced from Knansie’s all-business face to Harry’s tense posture, sensing his protective instincts. She gave him a small, reassuring smile as she tuned back into Knansie’s tirade. But the necromancer had noticed the mouse starting to freak out in its cage, prompting her to change the subject at last.

“Some beings can’t handle the transition,” Knansie remarked after striding to the mouse’s cage and snapping its neck. “In order to resurrect a soul, I must call upon forces of light and darkness. If a being isn’t capable of balancing the two instincts, it can turn…”

“Dark,” Macy finished, her worry only confirmed by Knancie’s sympathetic look. “What can I do to make sure that doesn’t happen to me?”

“ _Well_ ,” Knansie began with a doubtful expression that was hardly encouraging. But just then, the wall across from them exploded, causing Harry to stumble to Macy’s side as a slim, dark-haired witch strode forth, her face contorted in wrath, her hands wielding blue energy orbs.

“That’s her, it’s Sid!” Knansie screeched.

“You turned my boyfriend into a demon!” Sid accused, launching her orbs all over the place, shattering everything in sight, the contents of the sisters’ neat, cute kitchen decimated within seconds. 

“She’s lying, I refused to bring her demon boyfriend back!” Knansie insisted as she cowered on the floor.

Harry rested a hand on Macy’s shoulder as she used her own powers to make some of the few remaining plates fly at Sid. “We don’t know which of them is telling us the truth,” he reminded her.

“We need Knansie to find out about my darkness,” she fretted, sharing his uncertainty but determined to do what she had to. After all, once she had her answers, if Knansie really was a threat, they could deal with it.

“Right,” he agreed, blocking Knansie as Sid bounded forward, her hand aflame with blue light. 

“Move,” Sid threatened, “I only want the necromancer.”

“While I actually share your sentiment regarding the problematic nature of her kind, in this particular case, we need to question the necromancer. You’re simply going to have to wait, and perhaps calm down a bit, ideally, before enacting your vengeance,” Harry said, the stream of sensible advice sounding almost hilarious, since he had to shout it to be heard above the cacophony of yet more knicknacks and silverware being plonked to the floor as Sid bore down on him.

“I said, _move_!” Sid repeated, the energy orb in her palm growing larger and more threatening as she lifted it, prepared to hurl it at Harry.

He hesitated, as if pondering whether he could draw upon his own powers somehow to fight her, or if he should grab Knansie and jump aside once Sid attacked, but he never got the chance to make that decision.

“Stay away from him!” Macy exclaimed as a rage overtook her at the thought of Harry getting hurt. She let it in, let herself feel the anger of this witch invading their home, damaging it, destroying their things, trying to harm Harry, _no_. She would not allow this to continue for another second. She would do anything to keep him safe. Before she knew what happened she’d let loose an enormous burst of her powers, as easily as exhaling, and Sid was crashing through the window, landing hard on the grass out back.

“Macy,” Harry gasped, rushing to her side as she stared aghast at Sid.

“I don’t know how I did that,” Macy said in a panic, leaning on him as he supported her arms.

“I knew you had it in you,” Knansie remarked smugly.

“Right, that’s enough of that,” Harry decided. “Quite enough. Knansie, tell Macy whatever other pertinent information you have to inform her, or else we shall turn you over to Sid right now.”

Sid groaned, fumbling around, not able to stand again yet. This was their opportunity if Knansie was going to talk.

“No more tangents about your necromancer rights, just _tell me_ ,” Macy entreated, “The darkness in me, where does it come from? And is there a way for me to control it without it taking me over?”

“Ugh, fine,” Knansie sighed, “I use demon blood to do the resurrections.” 

“You _what_?” Harry demanded angrily. Macy’s heart felt like it stopped. Surely, if Harry’s reaction was any indication, there were multiple methods by which necromancers could resurrect a soul. Knansie just happened to be one necromancer who used a method which meant there was part of a demon’s lifeforce inside of Macy…in her soul.

“Look, it works, it gets the job done, okay? And most of the time, everyone’s fine. Sure, every once in a while the darkness will take someone over until they go full demon, but then they’re caught by witches and sent to Tartarus nine times out of ten. My hands stay clean, I get paid, everyone’s done their job and it comes full circle. Whether it’s a happy ending or a sad one, everything will _always_ come full circle, and all I’m doing is playing my role in that cycle.” Knansie shrugged. “Now please, will you help me bind Sid before she comes after me again?”

“No,” Macy and Harry said in unison.

“Get out of here,” Macy ordered, “We don’t care where you go, but leave. We’ll deal with Sid for now.”

“Whatever,” Knansie scowled, apparating away. Macy could just make out the snide blonde’s remark of “You’re welcome!” as she disappeared, off on the run again.

“She didn’t have anything else of use to impart, she was just using you to help her fend off Sid,” Harry guessed.

“Maybe so,” Macy ventured, her breaths ragged as she struggled to believe what she’d learned, what she had done. “At least now we know where my darkness comes from, what it is…I guess my next step is to figure out how to channel it, control it rather than letting it control me.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Could you feel it, as you attacked Sid?”

“Coursing through me faster and harsher than I could believe,” she confirmed, “And Harry, I couldn’t hold it back. There was no way for me to prevent my own actions.”

“What did you just do?” Sid accused, brushing tiny shards of glass from her knees as she stood and charged at them, her walk a bit crooked after her rough ordeal.

Macy held her hand up. “Look, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Knansie: leave. Go after her, get your revenge, do whatever you want, but get out of my house. Now.”

“Fine, I have bigger fish to try anyway,” Sid grunted, “Like figuring out where she’s skulked off to now.” She turned tail and departed across the glass-strewn yard as Macy turned back to face Harry.

“So, I’ve got demon blood in me. As darkness goes, that’s pretty intense.” She pressed her forehead to his chest as he folded her into his arms. “What do I do, Harry?” Her voice was thin, but as he held her, she let her face slide more closely against him, breathing in his scent until she felt anchored, protected. Safe, even from herself.

“Trust your instincts, Macy, always. What do they tell you now?”

She thought about his words, relaxing her body even more into their hug. "I'm a scientist, and I'm also a Charmed One. Putting those two talents together, I can research, I can experiment within safe conditions, find a way to harness the darkness and make it answer to me rather than the other way around."

"Good girl," he enthused, his voice gentle, his fingers in her hair, his very specific choice of words distractingly erotic. Her heart skipped a beat and she had to repress the urge to get him to call her that again, lots of times, _naked_. What was he doing to her? Macy only knew she wanted more and more, and that the waiting would be torturously delicious.

"Mmmm," she sighed contentedly as he rubbed her back. But when she opened her eyes, she saw enough of the wrecked kitchen to give a decided groan of disapproval.

“What is it?” Harry asked as she pulled away and rolled up the sleeves of her black sweater with a determined air. 

“Not all of my power is dark,” Macy smiled before reciting a spell she’d recently memorized. With that, all of the broken shelves in the room reassembled themselves, the shattered china flying back together to form plates and bowls, the forks and spoons neatly arcing back into the drying rack by the sink, the plants leaping back into their pots along with the soil that nourished them. She’d combined her telekinesis with the specific request of the spell to undo the chaos wrought by Sid’s attack. 

As Harry watched, impressed and admiring, Macy turned and flicked her wrist until the window also pieced itself back together. If only it was that easy to understand the connection she had to forge between her own broken pieces. To make herself whole, functioning, competent and reliable. She couldn't remain beholden to wicked urges that might strike and take her under at any moment. This was to be her fight…but she’d never be alone in it.

“A job well done,” Harry said delightedly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. In the midst of everything happening, she still took a moment to appreciate the small changes in his body language and behavior, the way he treated her now with an approach that could only be called “boyfriendly.”

“Hey, I think it’s time we got back to solving your problem,” Macy suggested, meeting his startled glance with a soft laugh. 

“You don’t want to take a break? After everything that just happened?”

“Honestly, I’ll feel better if we keep working on something productive. I have the day off, I have the time to devote to this now, so let’s get going, Harry.” She leaned up to kiss his lips, finding them as warm and waiting as ever. “Let’s find your son.”


	8. Chapter 8

“It’s enough…it has to be,” Harry said wistfully as he and Macy watched Carter playing with his two grandchildren out on the front lawn of a charming townhouse in Manchester, England. 

“Harry,” she sighed, knowing this must be incredibly hard for him. To see his family so close but out of reach, to have such an honorable but perhaps unfairly idealistic resolve about protecting them from the complications of having a whitelighter around, and from the necessity to lie. 

Life _was_ complicated, nothing came easy, and you had to embrace the chances to be happy when they came along. If finding her sisters, learning about her mom and her own past, and loving Harry had taught her anything so far, it was that joy should be cherished. It was precious and sometimes fleeting, obscured by life’s struggles. But she didn’t want to say any of this to him right now, not when he was carrying the weight of his most painful moral convictions on his shoulders. It would take time for him to even process what he was feeling now and what it meant to lay eyes on his son and great-grandchildren. 

Carter looked up then and met Harry’s eyes. The two of them exchanged a brief wave, tentative, like a promise destined to remain unfulfilled, founded on a mutual understanding. Carter must know that Harry looked familiar…had he ever seen a picture of his father? Would he piece the truth together now?

Clearly worried that this might happen, Harry waited for Carter to turn back to his grandchildren. Then he teleported them away, back onto the porch of their house back in Hilltowne.

Harry collapsed into Macy’s arms, crying his heart out, and she held him close, massaging her hands slowly over his back. His tears spilled hotly into her neck, and they stood there a long time, letting the course of his emotions run freely. 

“You’re a good man, Harry,” she murmured as his crying gradually slowed, the tremors in his body calming from the relief of giving vent to his shock of bittersweet disbelief, the sharply overwhelming collision of happiness and grief.

“Thank you, my love,” he said thickly, looking down at her a bit startled at his own words, finding that her eyes had gone huge. 

Macy pressed her hands to his chest, his heart thumping madly under her touch.

“It just…slipped out,” he admitted, “I suppose I couldn’t help it.”

“Good,” she said, grinning so hard her cheeks ached, her whole body reverberating with the thrill of the name he’d given her. His love. Yes. Kissing his mouth, she held him firmly by the back of his neck, then drove her fingers up into his hair, ruffling it thoroughly. His lips were warm and salty, his tongue insatiably curious as ever, flicking against her own as she gave a soft moan.

“Say it again,” she whispered as his mouth traveled possessively down her neck, his hands smoothing up over her belly to cup her breasts. 

“My love,” he said, biting her skin, licking and sucking at her neck as his thumb found her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt and her plain cotton bra. Macy’s entire body seemed to be hot, pulsing, pleading him for more, her nipple hardening beneath the tantalizing graze of his exploratory caress.

“And again,” she whimpered, taking his free hand and guiding it up her skirt, over her stockings and up to her center where her desire coiled, tight and insistent. 

“My love,” Harry repeated huskily, tweaking her nipple, then sucking it through her shirt and bra, soaking her clothing and shocking her, both by the perfect ecstasy of anticipation he drew from her, and the unbelievable shamelessness of him doing this in broad daylight where anyone might see.

“H-holy shit,” she mumbled, gripping him by his shirt hard, tugging him closer as he slid two fingers firmly against her clothed sex. “We need to go inside…upstairs…”

“Your wish is my command,” he smirked, both of them high on their naughtiness as he teleported them into her room.

She was still grabbing onto his deceptively pristine white button-up shirt when they reappeared on her bed. While he hovered over her, settling between her thighs, his eyes ablaze with besotted intrigue, she gave her id a free pass, yanking his shirt open as buttons flew everywhere. It should have been funny, a giggle-worthy explosion of insane lust, but instead it was deadly serious. He leveled her with a sultry stare, sitting up long enough to shrug off his jacket and whip his shirt off. Macy sat up too, pressing her lips to his beautifully sculpted chest and stomach, gliding her tongue down over his abs as he sank his hand roughly into her hair, gasping at her attentions.

“Put your hands up,” he ordered, and even his smile at her immediate compliance was serious, intent on pushing every remaining boundary between them. He pulled her blouse up over her head, sighing at the sight of her watching him with bated breath, one side of her dove grey bra damp with his saliva. Slowly, he reached out and pushed the bra straps from her slender, smooth shoulders, his fingertips tracing the elegant lines of her bones. Then he unclasped the bra and looked at her in pure disbelief.

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are, Macy. I’ll never get over it.”

“What do you want?” she asked him, shy in her nakedness but endlessly craving his desire. She wanted it poured out all over her, wanted to feel every potent outburst of his need and learn what it felt like to let him take her over completely.

“Lie down,” he ordered gruffly, and she slid her body back, nestling her head into the pillow as his hands went to her hips, adoringly gripping them and tucking his thumbs into the tenderest part of her flesh inside them, making her moan again. She loved the feeling of him possessing her most vulnerable moments, loved the thrill of it but also the security of knowing no one would ever keep her vulnerability safer.

“Lift up your bottom,” he entreated, unzipping her skirt with luxurious care before he tugged it down more aggressively. “Good girl.”

“I like that,” she murmured, eyes shining as she watched him. “That contrast between your softness and roughness. You’re not like anyone else, Harry.” He peeled off her sheer tights and cast them aside before taking his place again between her thighs. 

She wrapped her long legs around his torso and pulled him down, kissing his lips before adding gently, quoting the lyrics of “Just Like Heaven,” “Show me how you do that trick.”

He nodded, gulping at the power of her implication. They were trespassing into the forbidden, agreeing to bring their witch-whitelighter romance to its full culmination, consequences be damned. Even more importantly, she was asking him in no uncertain terms to be her very first lover. The one she’d waited for all this time. 

“Macy, I only hope I can ever deserve—“ He said haltingly, caressing her face, but she smiled with complete certainty.

“You’re the one I want,” she promised, and then their lips were joined again, tempestuous, wild and wet, tongues tangling as their lower bodies ground together. She felt his hard-on pressing to her panties through his trousers and gave a throaty cry before reaching down with shaking hands to unbuckle his belt. Macy grabbed the pillow, moaning, and rolled her hips up automatically as he ground harder against her soft, wet heat. 

He downright growled when she used her toes to shove his pants down, losing his patience again enough that he removed his boxer briefs himself, hasty and desperate to be close to her again. Every second they were apart felt like a lifetime. She caught the merest glimpse of his engorged arousal and felt a shock of erotic excitement pulsing demandingly at her center. 

“I’m sorry,” he said hotly against her neck as he again besieged the already pleasantly-sore skin there with yet more soft nips and sharper bites, his tongue sweeping the places he punctured. “I should be gentle with you…it’s your first time…I just…” 

“No,” she sighed, raking her nails over his back and then pulling his hair until he looked up into her lust-blown eyes, his face helplessly lost to the same yearning that had her every pore and nerve-ending singing his name. “Don’t be gentle. Love me, give me yourself, give me everything. Be honest with me in everything you do.”

That was all he had to hear before he lowered his head again, kissing between her breasts, then down over her tummy. Then his lips glided languorously over her pussy. She slammed her palm down on the mattress in surprise at the delicious tingling sensation he evoked in her most private area. He was doing something she had always wondered about, obviously never having been able to approximate the experience despite her many adventures in solitary exploration. 

“Lie still,” he said simply, slipping her panties down and flicking them to the floor along with the rest of their clothes. 

Then he parted her legs widely, smiling at the way she shook, soon groaning at the taste of her sweet cunt as he kissed and lapped at it. Macy gave a strangled cry and gripped his hair more tightly, following the rhythm of his motions as he began to increase the speed and depth of his oral attentions, delving his tongue inside her, then sucking at her, then licking up her slit until she shook harder than ever, coming with a silent scream, her mouth falling open in total astonishment.

He felt her hand relaxing in his hair, felt the change in her body as the tension dissolved into a delirious calm. “You’re scrumptious…you’re perfect,” he assured her, kissing his way back up her stomach and breasts until they were face to face. 

Her eyelashes fluttered as she lifted her trembling legs around him again, urging him to keep going though she definitely couldn’t form a single comprehensible word at the moment. 

“God,” she finally managed to yelp as he reached down and lined up his thick, hard member at her entrance. “Yes. Yes, please…Harry…”

He nodded, smiling with complete devotion, reverence to her special surrender, and then he entered her, grunting in immediate pleasure as his face fell to her shoulder. Macy held him tightly as he slid back out just a little, then pushed further into her sopping, tight, beckoning warmth, causing a small but intense pain to erupt.

She gasped, caught between ecstasy and a discomfort that was already ebbing away the more he went on, thrusting slowly into her, his breath ragged against her shoulder. “Does it hurt too much?” he asked, his voice half-smothered in her skin. “Do you need me to —“

“No, don’t stop,” she urged him, “It’s good, Harry…I trust you.” 

He sighed and went on slowly fucking her, high on the sounds of her breathy moans until he rocked more quickly and firmly into her, faster and faster now, causing the pleasure between them to mount to an inevitable breaking point.

She didn’t really know what she was saying when she came this time —his name? A lot of swear words she usually avoided out of habitual politeness? It was probably both, back and forth, in a gushing torrent of bliss-soaked desperation. She was lost to everything but this feeling between them. The pleasure was incomprehensibly even more intense than it had been when he went down on her, an explosion of purest bliss that only grew stronger when Harry burst inside her with a loud groan. 

He was completely undone by the excess of passion between them; she felt it as he rested his wet cheek to her bare breasts, as his warm, perspiring body quivered in her arms. It must be so utterly mind-blowing to fall into this encounter with her that would change everything, defining their futures just as he’d begun to let go of his past. He’d felt everything today, every variation of pleasure and pain life had to offer, and as she sighed at the sweet, heavy numbness taking over her limbs, she kept him there in her tender embrace where he belonged.

“It’s okay,” she repeated in a petal-soft whisper, “It’s okay…I love you. I’m here.”

He said nothing, but cuddled up to her snugly, kissing her breast and then letting himself give into an irresistibly needed slumber. She joined him soon after, realizing this was what it felt like when a dream came true.


	9. Chapter 9

He’d changed the sheets while she was sleeping, Macy realized when she woke up a few hours later. She could hear the usual hum of her sister’s bickering and joking voices from downstairs, plus the clatter of dinner plates, but they’d left Harry and Macy alone, likely noting her locked bedroom door and drawing the natural conclusion.

Harry must have carried her to the chair by the window, carefully resting her there while he crept to the bed and removed the sheets which were bloodied by the loss of her virginity. He was putting fresh linens down on the bed, making perfect hospital corners with her star-and-moon patterned sheets as she sat up with a husky chuckle.

“What is it, my lady?” he asked, smiling over at her as she wrapped his bathrobe around herself, loving the smell of him that emanated from the soft navy garment which he’d used to cover her while she napped.

“Mmm, ‘my lady.’ I like that name, too,” Macy mused, watching him intently as he finished making the bed, arranging her duvet with all due prim and proper care. He must have slipped out of her room long enough to throw the sheets in the wash and change into his white t-shirt and grey sweat pants, an outfit which clung to his trim, firm physique so sinfully that it nearly rivaled nudity. But _noooot_ quite.

“I like that you’re such a gentleman…and secretly kind of a savage,” she elaborated wickedly, her eyes cheerfully wandering from his strong arms to his perfect ass.

“Ah! Well, I’m excessively glad to hear it,” he said with a decidedly earned smugness.

Macy stood and went to him, letting the robe fall to the floor as his eyes widened at her naked curves. 

“Good—Good _God_ ,” he stammered, and she grinned encouragingly.

“I like the other name even better though. ‘My love.’” She kissed his lips as his arms encircled her, their bodies melting together with an increased familiarity that only heightened their delight. 

“My only love,” he told her throatily, lifting her onto the bed again as her breath hitched in anticipation. Harry’s eyes burned through to her soul as he spoke the next words, solemn and sweet as a wedding vow. “My Macy.”

**********************************************************************************************

“Do you feel…different?” Harry asked her as they lay tangled up afterwards, warm enough from the heat of their second tryst that they felt no need to get under the covers. His hands wandered freely over her back as her own slid up his chest, and she loved that simple freedom, just lying there wrapped in the fullest confession of their love.

“In a good way,” she smiled, kissing his chest and gazing up at him, taking a few moments to honestly assess how she was feeling. There was an ache reverberating from her core out to her thighs, reaching all the way down to her calves, but it was a sweet pain she never would have wanted him to heal. 

“I feel sore in this unexpectedly lingering, _reminding_ sort of way…a nice kind of sore.”

He nodded, his eyes deeply thoughtful, grey misting through blue, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her back. “I want you to know how immensely honored I am, Macy, and…that I just wanted it to be everything you needed.”

She reached up to cup his face, tracing his lips with her fingers. “It was more than I ever imagined, because you are, too, Harry.”

He smiled, and she was surprised to see a waver of nervous excitement sneaking back into his expression. “Did I…hear you rightly earlier…when you said you felt, well, a certain level of fondness for me…”

“I love you,” she grinned, climbing on top of him, her whole face glowing with exuberant affection. His smile widened shyly and she lowered herself so that she was pressed flush against his body, her breasts crushed to his chest, both of them immediately moaning at the pleasure of the contact. “I love you,” she said euphorically, claiming his lips in kiss after kiss, “forever…”

*************************************************************************************************  
The next few weeks flew by in a surreal sort of daze, the two of them sneaking off together at any available moment to revel in their love again and again. Maggie and Mel began making jokes about “Hacy” and their not-so-subtle disappearing acts, but they were obviously happy for the two of them. 

Between witchy adventures, Macy concentrated as often as possible on solving the mysteries of her inner darkness. Through meditation, she learned to focus on the violent impulses within herself, carefully digging deeper into the feelings, endeavoring not to let her demon side frighten her. Examining the sensations which emerged when she gave slow, focused vent to her darkest impulses, she sought a balance. 

When she took the time to understand the way her demon side exploited the normal amounts of anger and frustration in her mind, Macy was able to control the urge to brutally attack the enemies they so often faced. Once channeled, the same darkness that used to make her afraid she was a monster could be used in self-defense without going too far.

“I can’t believe that pixie had you singing and dancing,” Macy laughed as she helped Harry make dinner in the kitchen the evening after the Charmed Ones helped defeat one evil film student and free a cupcake-loving fairy.

He cringed, mixing salad greens with shaved carrots and grape tomatoes in a large bowl. “Please, don’t remind me,” he begged, “How utterly humiliating. Though of course, I couldn’t help myself, and perhaps if we give an honest assessment, my musical performance was actually rather —“

“Hmm?” Macy asked, her eyes big and innocent as she batted her long lashes. She slid the chicken into the oven and set the timer as he tried to come up with an accurate ending to the sentence.

“Well, not exactly _good_ …but certainly entertaining!” he managed to conclude, his expression lifting with cautious pride.

“Yeah, I’ll give you that one,” she laughed, lifting the foil over the cake he’d made for dessert. “Oooh, black forest!” Immediately, she cut herself a piece as he clucked his tongue and shook his head.

“That was meant to be for dessert,” he reminded her as she sank her fork into the fluffy chocolate and took a bite, savoring the richly dense frosting.

“Yeah well, so are you, but sometimes I just can’t wait,” she winked, approaching him with mischief written across her face. She placed a cherry on her tongue and toyed naughtily with the stem while he watched her, nearly spilling the enormous bowl of salad all over the floor.

“Ahem…what are you implying, Miss Vaughn?” he asked as she sidled up closer, plucking the stem from the cherry, then leaning up to kiss his lips, passing the candied fruit from her tongue to his.

“Oh, really?” he said gruffly, swallowing the cherry and then deepening the kiss before she pulled back to add another very important comment.

“Yup. And we need to talk about something else, by the way. What exactly were you trying to do to me with that ‘artsy’ disguise last night? You must have known I wasn’t gonna just let that go, right?” Macy’s eyes danced with merriment as he thought back to his choice of attire, the black t-shirt, leather jacket, and snug-fitting jeans that had helped him blend into the hipster film students’ event they’d attended.

“I was merely trying to effectively go _incognito_ ,” he claimed, playing with the ties on the back of her halter-cut, hunter-green jumpsuit in a decidedly suggestive manner.

“Bring it back?” she asked, stepping away to facilitate her delightfully greedy request.

He smirked and waved his hand, magically altering his geeky professor suit and tie until he was back in the t-shirt and jeans. “As always, your wish is my command, my lady.”

“That was a good command,” she decided, circling him before playfully smacking his behind. “A _very_ good command.” 

They chuckled and held each other, kissing distractedly and sharing the cake as he watched her, a new idea forming in his mind.

“Is there…anything else that would make you happy right now?” he asked, “As happy as you make me? I have to admit, I enjoy spoiling you, Macy.”

“I have to admit I like it too,” she admitted, the heat coming into her cheeks as she thought of all the lovely, sensual ways he enjoyed spoiling her, as well as the little treats and presents he’d taken to hiding for her to find in the most unexpected moments. “But you’re an A+ boyfriend, Harry.” 

She gestured with her fork before lifting it to his mouth to give him another bite of cake. “I’m so happy right now that I couldn’t really ask for more.”

“A+?” he repeated proudly, as if she had suddenly become _his_ teacher. 

Enjoying the role switch, she nodded, “A++. I’m giving you extra credit for those jeans. But seriously, Harry, we’re together, I’ve learned to control my demon side, actually put it to good use…I found my sisters and we all have each other…I feel stronger than ever. A year ago, I never could have imagined this…I was so alone and confused. Now I really know myself, and where I belong. You’re such a huge part of that…you’re my home.”

Touched by her words, he smiled mistily, but she could still see the wheels turning in his mind, intriguing her. “What?” she asked, tugging his shirt in curiosity.

Then he came to his decision and stood up straighter, taking her by the shoulders as his face lit up with excitement. “Ask me anyway, ask me for some insanely indulgent treat — a trip away somewhere — anywhere. Where do you want to go?”

He was being crazy, so caught up in the feelings between them that he couldn’t help wanting to go further, higher, to make the most of every second between them. Harry’s life had been long, but life in general was still so short…it was too tempting not to seize opportunities like this, especially when he had the power to do almost anything he wanted for her.

“Really? Well, I guess…” She set the fork down with an equally exhilarated grin. “I would have loved for you to show me more of England while we were there…” Her face fell slightly as she worried this might be an insensitive request. “I mean, unless that’s too painful for you, because of Carter—“

“No,” he insisted warmly, “It’s perfect. But let’s not go back to Manchester, I want to show you London. All my favorite parts of it, you’ll love it.”

“Okay, are you…oh, you’re serious,” Macy concluded, licking frosting from her lips with a giggle as his face took on that particular sort of focus he wore when tapping into his powers.

“Quite, my love,” he assured her, “Run away with me.”

“Wow! Yeah, I just — I mean, the chicken’s in the oven, Mel and Maggie are in the other room waiting, we’re supposed to be having movie night—“ Overwhelmed at his suggested jaunt, she found herself babbling. Could they really just…do this?

“Mmm. Leave a note. They’ll be fine,” he insisted with an uncharacteristic rebellious streak that turned her on immensely.

She scribbled a note as Harry hovered behind her, dropping kisses onto her neck and the part of her back left exposed by the jumpsuit. “How do you expect me to concentrate?” she asked as she glanced down at her comically messy handwriting on the note. “That’s barely legible.”

“They’ll get the point,” he assured her, turning her around by her hips as she put her arms around his neck. “Now, hold on tight.”

As far as that went, he never had to ask her twice.

Mel and Maggie wandered into the kitchen, debating the latest confusion in the Niko-Mel-Jada love triangle, when they noticed that Macy and Harry had taken off. “Do you think this says ‘London’?” Mel asked, squinting at Macy’s nearly gibberish-level handwriting.

“I guess so,” Maggie concluded, “Unless they went to ‘Lindon.’ What a couple of impulsive dweebs, just leaving out of the blue like that.”

“Right, but there are some advantages to having the place to ourself,” Mel reminded her, “It was Harry’s turn to pick the movie this time. At least we won’t be stuck with _Doctor Zhivago_ again, or _To Sir With Love_ …”

“Actually, I kinda liked that one. The song was catchy,” Maggie mused. “I’ll tell you one thing I don’t mind, through: lots more chocolate cake for us!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, there is a bit of angst in this chapter. But plenty of fluff too, cause hey, it's me ;)

With a snap of Harry’s fingers and a flash of his sweetly knowing smile, he’d whisked her away to London, England. As they reappeared on a gorgeously historic looking street, right near Big Ben and the London Eye, Macy did a double-take at the remarkable places she’d always wanted to see. Then she noticed the cold feeling under her toes and looked down with a sheepish laugh.

“Harry, I think we forgot that I’m barefoot,” she chortled.

“Ah! Well, that’s easily remedied,” he replied, twirling his fingers until a pair of chic boots from home appeared on her feet, a nice match for her outfit and sensible enough for comfortable walking.

“Hey,” she said, brow creasing as she slipped her hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, meeting his inquiring gaze. “You’re gonna wear out yourself out, using your powers so much, Harry.”

“Oh! I’m fine, I assure you, don’t worry about me,” Harry insisted. 

He slung an arm around her shoulders as they walked along. Inhaling deeply, he let the feel of that lightly rain-kissed London air provide him with its old, familiar comfort, only now it was different...he was here, for the first time in what felt like forever, not alone. It was an adjustment he could certainly get used to.

“Just…out of curiosity, I’m assuming you can also use your powers to _remove_ clothing?” Macy asked slyly, breaking him from his wistful mind tangent until he laughed wholeheartedly.

“Well, yes, of course I can, but honestly, Macy, where’s the fun in that? There are some things that I very much relish doing in the old-fashioned, human way…” 

Macy’s heart skittered as she suddenly realized the first part of London that she wanted him to take her to: a hotel room. There, they spent the whole night making love, ordering room service, then sitting out on the cold balcony bundled up in blankets and each other, talking, laughing, dreaming, and not caring that it was hardly typical vacation weather. It was just right because they were finally together, away, anywhere they wanted to be, and here they were.

The next day, he took her on a tour through several beautiful, historic tourist destinations. When they visited Kensington Gardens, he told her with his usual enthusiastic detail about all the flowers which would not be blinking back to life for several months yet, and she could picture them starting to stir beneath the earth, she could feel them waiting to blossom just like she used to wait to really live and feel unabandoned. As they walked through the hallowed chambers of Westminster Cathedral, Macy had to repeatedly stifle a giggle at Harry’s tendency to go off on long, academic lectures about the interesting facts involved with each of the places they went. He was like some unbelievably sexy PBS documentary, and she had to pinch herself sometimes to believe he was really all hers. She kept her arm laced through his, watching his handsome profile so animated by excitement, delighted to see Harry apparently experiencing one of his ultimate geekgasms.

“I cannot _believe_ that the murderer was the—“ Macy began to say as they left a performance of The Mousetrap at St. Martin’s Theatre that night. Harry placed his hand over her mouth and looked around in fright at the people walking by on the sidewalk there in the dazzlingly bright lights of the West End.

“What?” she asked, her voice amusingly muffled against his warm palm.

“The ending of that play has been kept a secret since it premiered in March of 1976,” he warned her with cutely absurd seriousness. “We mustn’t breathe a word of it.”

She kissed his hand before he withdrew it, and then she took out her phone with a laugh. “I bet the ending is mentioned in the Wikipedia entry,” she claimed, pulling up the page to prove her point. “Yup, see, it’s right there—“

“But it shouldn’t be!” he insisted as they started walking back to their hotel. “I hate spoilers and giving away the endings to great stories like that. It’s quite deplorable. It’s a good thing Wikipedia is an unreliable source and therefore no one can entirely believe a word of their so-called ‘entries.’” Macy raised an eyebrow, and smiled adoringly at him as he continued his tangent. “I’m always telling students not to ever rely on them as a source for their essays.”

This is how it always seemed to be when he got like this: Macy would wait, amusement sparkling in her eyes, her expression patiently getting more and more suggestively sensual until he was done monologuing. Harry saw all the signs of her mingled humor and arousal, and his stern, know-it-all face inevitably melted into an enchanted smile every time.

“Mmmhmm,” Macy grinned, backing him against the nearest brick wall as Londoners and tourists walked by them, too wrapped up in their own lives to pay much mind to the PDA.

“Macy,” Harry smiled back, his austere babble drifting away into total joy. “You’re my girlfriend.” She leaned into his body as he caressed her face in wonderment.

“Of course I am, Harry,” she laughed. 

“It’s still a matter of complete amazement to me, as are you…I love it. I love _you_ , Macy Vaughn.”

“You’re too much,” she accused, kissing him and reaching up to ruffle his hair. “I love you, too. I still can’t really believe we did this…that we’re here. I kinda wish we could stay forever, but then again, I miss my sisters. And I have work on Monday.”

“Agreed,” he conceded, “But then, that’s what the weekend is for.” She chuckled as he went on, “Where to next weekend? Tokyo? Sydney? Florence?”

“You’re incorrigible, Harry,” Macy accused, noticing as his eyes locked on something over her shoulder. “What now?”

“Something you need,” he winked, nodding to a flower cart across the street. “Oh, looks like she’s closing up shop for the night. I won’t be a moment.”

“ _Harry,_ ” she began, ready to tell him he didn’t need to go to so much trouble all the time. His mere presence kept the romance alive and at a fever pitch, but without his hopelessly romantic, old-fashioned-gentleman ways, well, he wouldn’t be her Harry.

He rushed to cross the street and buy her a flower while they were still available, but in his haste he failed to notice a car approaching from just up the road, the driver’s path weirdly crooked and uncertain-seeming. Macy glanced over at the car and immediately feared it was a drunk driver, but it was already too late for her to warn him as the motorist plunged right into Harry, knocking him off his feet.

Macy heard the harsh scream breaking from her voice as if she was trapped in a nightmare, and she lurched headlong into the street where all traffic had halted in the wake of the accident. 

“No,” she said hoarsely, feeling like her entire being was falling apart, disintegrating in horrified shock. 

She fell to her knees, not caring that the rough pavement sharply chafed her knees in her sheer tights, her pretty black dress flouncing around her legs as she leaned over Harry, afraid to move him for fear of worsening his injuries. He was flat on his back, a pool of blood spreading out from him, she couldn’t even tell from where — his head? His shoulder? Panic swept her until her vision blurred, tears gushing as she tried to keep him alert.

“Harry! Stay with me,” she pleaded, touching his face tenderly as his eyes fluttered open.

“Macy,” he smiled gently, “It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not…can you heal yourself?” she murmured before anyone around them could hear.

“I can’t use my healing abilities on myself,” he said, his eyes already getting foggy and distant, his voice wan. “More’s the pity. But…please…” he coughed and she took his hand, gripping him as if that could somehow keep him with her in this world.

“Harry, don’t leave me,” she begged, but he lifted his weak hand, trying to clasp her face, failing as his fingers fell heavily back down. There was so much blood, and the look on his face was so strange, like he too was falling away from her, irretrievably.

“My Macy,” Harry mumbled, nearly incoherent. “Please, will you just…do the thing? Tell me it’s all going to be okay until I…” he coughed again, his breathing getting shorter and tighter. Wheezing around the words, he added feebly, “Until I believe you, my love.”

She wanted to believe it too, so badly. Macy held both of his hands, hovering over him as she closed her eyes. 

“Shut your eyes,” she said softly, holding back the sobs that threatened to take her over. He needed this. She had to give him comfort now, let that be the last thing he remembered…

Both of them focused as she said intently, “Breathe. Even if it’s hard, even if it hurts. Because it’s all going to be okay, Harry. I got you, and you got me.” 

Then Macy felt a bizarre prickling sensation tugging at her magical abilities, a release of power from a part of herself she hadn’t known existed. 

“What…” she murmured confusedly, opening her eyes as the warm, soothing feeling rippled through her body, spreading to Harry’s…or coming from him? It felt like an impossible union between the two of them, as if…

Could it be?

Macy stared in total shock as the blood began to vanish from underneath Harry’s body and his breathing evened out. She leaned down to press her ear to his heart and heard it thumping strong and vibrantly, then she glanced to his face to see him looking back at her, equally stunned.

“You…you used your powers to somehow tap into mine,” Harry marveled, strong enough now to sit up as the concerned passers-by gasped in the background and the loud sirens of the ambulance neared. 

“Oh, thank God!” the drunk driver slurred, leaning against his vehicle, the front of which had been dented when he hit Harry.

Macy shot him a deadly look, thinking he should be very, _very_ glad she’d learned to harness her inner darkness. If she let the demon off its chain right about now, it would mean certain doom for that man. Appropriately, the driver shut up and lowered his face in shame.

“You mean,” she answered shakily, helping Harry to stand as the people around them clapped and cheered, “I used my telekinesis to sort of…grab onto your healing powers, siphon them and send them back to you?”

“That’s exactly how it felt to me,” he confirmed, grinning as he fully processed what had just happened. “You saved me. You’re a miracle, Macy Vaughn.”

At that moment, she didn’t even care about the hows and whys; she just wanted to hold him until she was completely sure he wasn’t going away from her ever again. 

Macy had been left too many times, and the thought of losing Harry made it almost impossible to tamp her demon energy down. Fighting back the flashbacks of the car hitting him which already threatened to take over her mind, she swallowed and refocused herself to stay in charge, keep her raging emotional tumult in check.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Harry.” Macy gripped him tighter, starting to cry again. “Never, ever again.”

“I won’t, I promise…God, I’m so sorry,” he vowed, and they stayed there holding each other until they both felt safe again…for now.

**********************************************************************************************

“Harry,” Macy sighed, sitting down beside Harry on his hospital bed and taking his hand, lacing her fingers through his, though he avoided eye contact, staring down at the thin, pale blue blanket in his lap. “Come on, Harry. Look at your girlfriend.” 

She leaned in closer and tipped his chin up, giving him a teasing smile which only made him look sadder. “It’s okay! You’re fine, we’re fine. I just want you to be more careful from now on, Mr. Romantic. Alright?”

“Macy, it’s so much more than that, this entire situation just obviously shows I can’t be trusted, least of all by myself...I’ve let my feelings for you carry me away to the extent of neglecting my duties, whisking you to England, overusing my powers until I’m so caught up between exhaustion and excitement that I’m, I’m--” 

She cut off his babbling with a kiss, stroking his hair, her big brown eyes soft, her heart racing with the need to comfort him. This self-denying aspect of Harry’s personality had been a big part of why it took him so long to approach her with his feelings, then longer to give into them. The last thing she wanted was for one little mistake to make him abandon hope for what they had together, what they could be...what they were meant to be.

“You may be a whitelighter, but you’re still a human being, Harry. Let yourself be human. Set yourself free to make mistakes and be impulsive, and to enjoy things that you want to do. You deserve that. Don’t you believe it’s true?”

He gave a rueful, pained half-smile, but he let his hand lie pliably warm in her own. “I have to put you and Maggie and Mel first; I have to care more about what the three of you need than what _I_ want, even if it’s...what I want to give you.”

Macy cocked her head to one side, musing on his words. “Hmm. And what is that, Harry? What do you want to give me?”

“The world,” he laughed sheepishly. “I want to give you every bit of support, every moment of romance and wonder and fun this life has to offer, and I’ve gone so long not feeling this for anyone that I seem to be having an exceedingly hard time controlling myself about it. I’ve been simply giving in, going along with the flow of this adrenaline and this heat I feel with you…”

He raised his free hand to clasp her face, and she turned to kiss his palm, tears streaking down her cheeks to pool into his hand and salt her lips.

When she looked at him again, glowing with pure love and not one dash of fear, he met her eyes with astonishment. 

“I wouldn’t have missed out on this impulsive getaway with you for anything, and everyone messes up sometimes, Harry. I love you. I love the way you mess me up, you get into my dreams and color my world with happiness like you were always supposed to be there, like we are just as destined as the power of three. If you fall, I’ll pick you up, and if it’s me?”

“I’ll save you,” Harry promised, his voice wavering, emotion leaving him nearly breathless. “Always.”

“See? You just did the thing, and there’s no life and death scenario to it this time, just a vow. It’ll pull us through anything life throws at us and anything we manage to screw up in the future.”

Harry’s brow creased for a moment as disbelief made him utterly adorable. Macy giggled and kissed his mouth, her lips heated and tear-stained. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s what I meant.”

They didn’t need any magic to read each other’s minds, not with their hearts bound so tightly. But she wanted him to hear her say it out loud.

“Marry me, Harry Greenwood. I want to be with you forever.” Macy gave him a smile full of radiant sunlight, and he kissed her again, more firmly, then deeper.

“Macy, how could I possibly be so lucky? I mean, on the one hand, I was supposed to be the one to propose--”

“Says who?” she argued feistily, grinning.

“Um, says tradition,” he replied in his most crisply proper tone. “I had the entire thing planned out, though of course I still needed to ask your sisters for their approval…”

“ _That_ would have been fun for you!” she laughed, “Please, will you still do the proposal you planned? Do it when I least expect it. I know I’ll love it.”

“Well, alright,” he conceded, playfully acting as if the thought was tiring. “If you insist.”

“I do insist.” She yawned, worn out from the dramatic evening, and crawled fully into bed with him, or actually almost on top of him, given the tininess of the cot. 

Harry laughed and hugged her close as she rubbed her cheek against his chest, then smelled him with a contented but elated sigh.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” he pointed out archly. “That might be another problem for us down the road.”

“Oh, because I’m so unreasonable, and you’re just the victim of my wicked ways?”

“Well, you said it, I didn’t,” he joked, massaging her back and reaching for the remote control to dim the room lights.

“Mmm. I’ve noticed you don’t seem to have a problem being bossy with me when the situation calls for it.”

“Macy, this is not the time and place for such subjects,” he answered cheekily, his voice rumbling low in his chest under her eager ear, his hand shamelessly roving over her ass and then squeezing as her knee arced up to graze his automatic erection.

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble when we get out of here.”

“Yes, I hope so,” Harry replied, glancing to the door when he heard the small click of it opening to admit a nurse who was coming in to check on him. He lifted his hand away from Macy’s behind, doing his best nonchalant expression despite the blush spilling over his cheeks and making her giggle all over again.

“Good evening,” the English nurse whispered, “I’m so sorry, Miss, but only family are allowed here overnight.”

“I’m his fiancee,” Macy explained as her heart leapt at the simple, wonderful ability to say that out loud...as many times as she wanted! 

“Ah! Oh, congratulations, my dear. What a lucky escape you had, young man. How are you feeling now?”

“I couldn’t possibly be better,” Harry smiled, playing with Macy’s hair as she closed her heavy eyes again, her breaths coming more slow and even, her heart beginning to calm as much as it could. 

She used the thought of their engagement like a tether, binding her to the certainty he would always be safe by her side. Sure, it was a completely unrealistic fantasy given the lives they led, but it was the only thing holding her together right now in the aftershock of seeing him so close to death.

“Yes, I know they’re only keeping you overnight as a formality...it really is a miracle that you survived an accident like that almost unscathed!” The nurse checked Harry’s vitals and nodded, “Since you two are engaged, I think that’s family enough to allow you to say, Miss. Have a good night’s sleep...you certainly earned it.”

“Earned it,” Harry muttered as the nurse let herself out and closed the door behind her, “Goodness me, I don’t know about that. I’ve been a bloody fool lately.”

“Shut up about that, and kiss me goodnight, you fool,” Macy said sleepily. 

“Say it one more time,” he asked softly, so tenderly, after he submitted to her request, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to marry me…”

Harry kissed her forehead, and her lazy fingers came up to ease the tears from his cheeks. 

“I want you to be my husband. And I wanna be your wife. And I want to have many, many beautiful half-witch, half-whitelighter babies with you, and they’re going to be unruly but brilliant, or many a few of them will be all prim and proper like you, well like you are most of the time, and I want to be with you every night…for as much of forever as we get.” 

She snuggled in again, absorbing his body heat until the thinness of the blanket couldn’t bother her in the least. Her voice trailed off as she let go into sleep, and Harry lay there for quite some time afterwards turning it all over in his mind.

He couldn’t turn away from such happiness. Not when it was everything Macy wanted, and what she needed from him. But wasn’t that selfish, just as selfish as his previous rash behavior, to think that she needed his love more than she needed his restraint, his ability to be her whitelighter first and foremost and repress any inappropriate longings that could tamper with that simple and pure commitment? Everything between them was painted with passion, and there was no going back...yet he struggled to find a way to forgive himself for being so greedy with her. Was this really what was best for Macy, or would he be doing her a favor by wiping her memory of their love and going back to the way things were before? 

_I can’t do that. I won’t._

He breathed in the honeysuckle from her soft, luscious curls and listened to her steady breathing, trying to steady himself, bolster his nerves, believe in himself the way she did, see himself through her eyes. Why not, after all? If they could walk into each other’s dreams, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine life through those stunningly alive, incomparably vibrant eyes of hers. Then everything was lit up with hope, even him. 

Perhaps Macy was right after all, and there was something of destiny about their bond. He followed the thought to its natural conclusion, that this physical and spiritual connection between them had made it even easier to let himself pursue her, give into his longing to have her in his arms and damn the consequences. He wasn’t usually so reckless, but it felt as true, as second nature now as the way Macy’s soul shone so exquisitely in seamless shades of dark and light magic.

Deep down, Harry feared that with Macy he would always be too overwhelmed by his desire, too caught up in his love for her to properly control himself and look at their various future adventures impartially, to compartmentalize and prioritize the way he used to. 

Could he be the husband she needed, the father...could he be so presumptuous as to think he actually _deserved_ another chance to raise a child and watch them grow, to guide them when he was lost himself, incapable of exuding common sense to master the adoration of this woman who had turned his expectations of his life completely upside down?

He _was_ upside down, he was inside out, he was broken and rebuilding and clinging to Macy, hoping to all the powers that be this path wouldn’t be the death of her, nor cause some calamity on the road ahead that could bring the end of the Power of Three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing a little bit with what the canon limitations and rules of Macy and Harry's powers are -- thanks for indulging me in that!


End file.
